One Thousand Souls
by Redandblackcatta
Summary: This is an AlanxEric AU story in which Alan never discovers Eric's mission to collect the souls, and he succeeds in his task. The first chapter is Eric's success, but then the rest is what happens afterwards, e.g. Alan getting pregnant and saving Eric. It is an MPreg story, and it fits in with my Grelliam story Difficult Love. Hope you enjoy, as you have to love Alan and Eric! :)
1. Prologue

Author's Note: To anyone who was waiting for this story, which I promised in Difficult Love, then I apologise that it took so long to get out. I was busy studying for Biology, Chemistry, Physics and English tests, and at the moment I'm studying for a German writing exam. If you are just clicking on this story now, because you love this couple, then if you like Grelliam as a couple too, then you may wish to check out my linking story Difficult Love (I'm pretty sure that's most of you out there). As I have said, this is am MPreg story, and EricxAlan, so I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, Yana Toboso does. If I did own it, so many pairings would exist where they do not in the manga and anime.

One Thousand Souls Prologue

Alan shifted and clenched his jaw, wanting to let out a moan but not wanting to sound like he was complaining. He ached all over, but this was normal for him, and there was another man in the room suffering from the exact same condition as him, so it hardly seemed fair to complain of his aches and pains when the man – Lance Knight, Alan thought his name was, which was a bit of a joke in itself, really – wasn't complaining at all, just lying back and staring at the ceiling, which was what he always did, as far as Alan was aware.

Sighing, Alan leaned back and stared at the ceiling too, wondering if there was something fascinating about it, or if it was just that there was nothing better to do. Whatever the case may be, it had certainly attracted the attention of both him and Lance, though Alan was fairly sure he would have had his attention pulled away by Eric, should the man have been there with him. Instead, Alan knew, the blonde was out with a woman named Nova Berry, and seeing as he had had the attack whilst Eric was out, there was no way to get word to his friend about the fact that he was in the hospital again. Alan didn't blame Eric, though. He was a classic ladies man, and Nova was a pretty lady.

In his mind, she was boring and naïve, though she did happen to be a rather confident person. You would have to be, Alan decided, if you were going to attract Eric's attention. Then again, he himself wasn't exactly confident. He spoke out for what he believed was right, but he wasn't really a confident person. He wondered if her good looks had caught his attention more, rather than her personality. She was pale and had pretty blonde hair that caught any man's eye, which was more than he could say. His hair was a boring brown, and rather thin and floppy. It wasn't his fault, though. He hadn't decided how he was born when he was a human, and Reapers generally looked the same as they had before they died. She was even taller than him by around eight inches, reaching six foot tall. It was obvious why she, with her curvy figure and beautiful face, caught Eric's attention more than he did.

Alan drew himself up short when he realised he was being bitter again. Somehow, he was determined to stay kind and polite, even though he was dying, and fairly close to death now. He could feel the Thorns. They were closing in on his heart and he knew, without knowing how he knew, that he was only a few attacks away from death. Seeing as Eric wasn't here now, and hadn't been there when his attack started, the brunette was fairly sure he would die alone. He had never wanted to die alone – who would? – but he was certain that he wanted Eric there when he died. It wasn't to be cruel to the blonde that he wanted it, but it was rather because he wanted the man to be the last person he saw before he went. Selfishness was never something he condoned, but he allowed himself this small wish. Besides, it was hardly selfishness if he never told anyone of his burning desire, was it?

"Alan?" A quiet, concerned voice came from the other end of the room, and Alan shifted enough to see the door, his friend Roger Lawrence-Robinson standing there. The man was a nurse, and he always called in on Alan whenever he had a spare moment, but as Alan knew, Roger couldn't be there always. He didn't hold it against him. People always needed treating, whereas he was just waiting to get enough energy to be allowed out of the hospital without causing further damage to his system if he left. "Alan, someone is here to see you."

This was a surprise to Alan. The only people he could possibly think about that may have come to see him would be Braylen Lawrence-Robinson, Lizbeth Wood or Evelyn Brooks, but it couldn't possibly be any of them. Braylen was busy in surgery, Roger had told him earlier, the setting sunlight setting his ginger hair ablaze, and Evelyn and Lizbeth were halfway through a date, so they weren't likely to know of his attack. Curiously, Alan blinked at Roger.

"It's Eric." Roger finally said, clearly understanding that Alan didn't have the energy to talk to him at that point in time. It was unlikely he would have the energy to talk to Eric, either, but Roger knew of Alan's love for Eric, and had done so even before Alan had himself, so the ginger haired man knew that simply having Eric in the room would be a massive comfort for the small brunette. "Would you like help sitting up?"

Alan wanted to shake his head and be left to do it alone, not liking seeming so weak, but he knew that if he was ever going to sit up at all, he would need all the help he could get. Closing his eyes, Alan tilted his head in what he hoped looked like a nod, before waiting for the tall man to come over to him. The nurse was almost as tall as Eric was, only an inch or two off of the blonde man's six foot three stature.

It didn't take long for Roger to reach his side, and when he did, the man slipped his strong arms around the brunette and pulled him up easily, tensing when Alan winced in pain against him. All the muscles in his body ached, and Alan was wary to even move a finger, worried that he would voice his pain. He wasn't going to be seen as weak. He would be strong until the end. One thing was pressing on his mind, though. Why was Eric here? How had he known that the brunette was at the hospital? And why had he cut his date short for him? Of course they were friends, but Alan was fairly certain that Eric held dating women and everything that came with that higher than him. Had he been wrong? Selfishly, he hoped that he was.

Gently, Roger slipped Alan's glasses onto his face, making the room come into much clearer focus, and he shivered in the cool air. Why was a hospital kept this cold, anyway? A blanket was placed around his shoulders, and Alan snuggled into it, wishing that he had a strong cup of tea to sip upon. Sugar and a lot of milk were not something he took in his tea, simply because it diluted the flavour of a good cup of breakfast tea, and somehow, the tea always seemed warmer when it was strong, even when the heat was beginning to leave it.

"I could 'ave done tha'," a voice spoke from the doorway, and both Roger and Alan turned to face the owner of the voice. Cups in hand, Eric stood, and Alan half wanted to smile and half wanted to frown. Proof was in the blonde's hands that he always knew what the brunette was thinking, but then again, Eric must have known, if that was the case, that he didn't want the blonde to come in until he was sitting up and seemed halfway awake and healthy. On the bed next to his, the thin blonde man, Lance, laughed, before rolling over to face the wall. Well, it was a change for him, at least, Alan decided.

"Mr Slingby!" Roger exclaimed, pulling back from Alan and brushing off his clothes, looking caught between wanting to laugh at the blonde's audaciousness and wanting to slap him in the face. "I thought I told you to wait in the visitor's room until I came to fetch you."

"Yer did," Eric agreed, taking a sip of the cup in his right hand and pulling a face. "But I didn' listen." He took a step forwards, ignoring the look on the ginger's face. "I came to see Alan, so I'll be damned if I don' see him."

"Still, Mr Slingby-" Roger argued, knowing that Eric came in at just such a time that would embarrass Alan, and fully prepared to stand up for his friend's feelings. "I don't think you've quite grasped the hang of thi-"

"It's fine, Roger," Alan murmured, quietly, wanting to laugh when he saw that Eric had taken another sip of the cup in his hand and had pulled another face, before giving it a sniff and eyeing it warily, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to work out what, exactly, he was holding in his hands. "Eric can stay."

"Fine," Roger relented, before eyeing Eric again, probably wondering how Alan could like such a large and dangerous looking man. "But you only have an hour or so, Mr Slingby, before visiting hours end. If you wish to stay longer, you must put in a request for a spare bed for the night. Your request shall be assessed and then-"

"Aye, aye," Eric waved him off, gesturing vaguely with the cups in his hands, before setting the one he hadn't drunk out of on the table beside Alan's bed and murmuring some sort of warning to the brunette. "I know. Yer tell me every time I come, ye ken."

"Very well," Roger dipped his head, before heading off towards the door, stopping only when Eric called him back.

"Hey, Lawrence-Robinson?" Roger tilted his head to show that he was listening. "Do yer happen to have a complaint form anywhere?" The left eyebrow on the ginger's face twitched, clearly thinking that the blonde was asking after one because of him. "This coffee tastes like some sor' o' cross between coal and dir', an' I think yer need to find yerselves some new coffee-makers. I hate to think wha' this is gonna do to Alan's system." He gestured towards the tea.

Roger's face relaxed, and he couldn't help but laugh a little, before waving a hand and walking off, saying something along the lines of 'I'll bring you a form later, if you don't misbehave too much'.

"Alan'll keep me good, won't yer Alan?"

Alan glared at Eric for a minute, before turning to the side and lifting his arm slowly, as if to grab for the cup of tea next to him. Before his fingers could even brush it, however, Eric's hand had already closed around it and he was pressing it into Alan's hands, making Alan look up at him and raise an eyebrow, wishing he could say more, but finding himself without the necessary amount of energy. Eric, however, caught Alan's look, and raised his hands in silent surrender, his eyes softening a little and a sad look passing over his face.

"Yer always so strong, Alan." He said quietly, reaching out to push some of the damp strands of hair from the other's face, the brunette in question's eyes softening slightly. "I wish yer would let me help you fer once. I only want wha's best fer yer."

Alan nodded slightly, to show that he accepted the blonde's comment, before lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip of the warm liquid, feeling as it put moisture back into his dry mouth and heat into his body. Croaky from disuse, Alan opened his mouth and asked, a little haltingly, after Eric's reasons for coming. It wasn't that Alan wasn't glad to have Eric there, he was, but he had fully expected the blonde not to show up. The fact that he was here was surprising to Alan.

"Miss…Berry?" He asked, wincing at the frog-like quality to his voice, and taking another sip of tea to further dampen his throat and mouth, eyes trained on the blonde as the man put the cup he was holding down and glared at it, clearly wondering if it was possible to Reap the soul of a cup of coffee. It looked like he wished for nothing more than to be able to do so for that particular cup, and Alan wished his throat didn't hurt so much that he couldn't remind Eric about the fact that hospital coffee always tasted worse than dirty feet, though he wouldn't know what that tasted like, in particular.

"Braylen 'as finished his shift," he informed Alan, giving the other a cocky grin and tilting his head a little, the candlelight in the room glinting off of his blue-tinted glasses. "'e came to find me. Said you'd 'ad an attack. I'm no' gonna leave yer to go through tha' alone, yer ken tha'. Nova didn' mind me leaving. It's no' like were serious."

"Thank…you," Alan croaked out, feeling his lips twitch up at the corners. He shifted a little, to get more comfortable, and was glad that his energy was returning to him, though slowly, and less than he had before. "I want… to see you… before I go."

Alan closed his eyes, kicking himself that he had revealed his selfish wish to Eric without even batting an eyelid. That was not what was supposed to have come out of his mouth, and by the looks of things, Eric hadn't liked what he heard either, because he had frozen next to him, the smile he was wearing seeming rather forced when Alan opened his eyes.

"Don' say tha'," Eric ruffled Alan's hair, smile still frozen in place. "Yer gonna be fine. There's a lo' o' fight in yer yet."

"Eric…"

"Alan," Eric mimicked, before grabbing the brunette's chin and turning his face so their eyes could meet, Alan having looked away in sadness at the delusions that the blonde was operating under.

"Honestly, Eric…" Alan sighed out, looking up at the blonde and feeling the blood rush to his cheeks when he saw the expression on Eric's face. It was one of caring and compassion, and of a fierce determination to never let Alan go. Heart beating faster and blood rushing, Alan continued on with what he had to say. "I can feel it… I'm dying… It could be…next month… it could be tomorrow… but I know that the days I've got left are… rather less than more… so please… you have to be able to accept… the fact that I'm… not going to be here soon."

Panting slightly at the long speech he had just attempted, frustrated by the fact that he was unable to say anything more, Alan watched Eric's face for the blonde's reaction. It was a mixture of worry, sadness and hope, though Alan had no idea where the hope was coming from. What was the point of hope, when he knew he was going to die soon? Unless a part of Eric wanted Alan gone just as much as a part of Alan wanted to reach up and kiss the man right then. Then again, he knew, he didn't have the energy to kiss him, so it was unlikely that that part of him would win out.

"Yer gonna be around fer a while." Eric argued, moving from the chair by Alan's bed to sit on it with him, hand reaching out to the brunette's so that their fingers were entwined, before using his other to pull Alan's face up to look at him again. "I promise."

"Eric-" Alan wanted to laugh at Eric's vehemence, and cry about the fact that Eric was delusional. Unable to let either side win, Alan just let out a small sigh and furrowed his eyebrows, before trying to get the man across from him, the one that was making his heart beat so quickly, to understand, but he was cut off before he could even begin to try.

"Really Alan, yer gonna be alrigh'," Eric informed him, face getting closer to Alan's, and causing the brunette's heart to skip a beat in its constant struggle to keep the blood pumping around the small man's body. "There's no way I'm gonna let yer die on my watch."

"Eric-" Alan tried again, wondering just why Eric's face was so close to his, but doing nothing to stop it from drawing nearer. "Eric, please-"

"No, Alan," Eric told him, breath mingling with the brunette's as their noses brushed ever so slightly. "I'm no' gonna let yer go, so yer gonna have to live fer me. Yer me best friend, and yer no' gettin' away tha' easily."

Just as Alan was about to protest, he felt Eric's lips pressing against his, and he froze in shock, though he hadn't been moving much to begin with. Somehow, without his knowledge or comprehension, his free hand slid up to rest on Eric's shoulder, the hand holding Eric's tightening around the other's fingers in shock. So lost was he in the sensation that he didn't think to push Eric back, and to stop the other man, for there was no point to what was happening. He was going to die soon, and he would just leave the other heartbroken. Just as he was about to register this in his mind, however, he felt something vital and heavy shifting somehow, coming to rest on his shoulders, and he broke away from Eric in confusion, eyes wide as he looked at the other, panting from the lack of air he had been subjected to.

Eric looked at Alan with a sort of desperate worry on his face for a moment, Alan staring back at him in shock and confusion, before he felt a sort of rushing feeling as if something were entering his body, and then he was tingling all over, and he could feel something mixing with the Thorns within him, something prying at them and tearing them from his body slowly and painfully.

Without thinking, he let out a whimper, wanting it to stop, and he saw a bright light enter the room, before realising that it was him. He was glowing… or more correctly, the Thorns within him were growing, the vines shining out through his skin and showing him just how close he had been to death – they were nearly encasing his heart, and all it needed was a few more attacks until they would have squeezed the life out of him slowly. He could see the Thorns being pried away from his insides, shrinking and shrivelling down as they shrunk down to where he had first had a soul pass through him, where he had first been infected.

Along with the glowing came an agonised groaning sound, and while he watched in fascination and horror at what was going on inside of him, he realised, belatedly, that he was making that noise. He looked around in desperation, hoping that someone could tell him what was going on, arching off the bed as his eyes caught the look on Eric's face. Pain and relief were spread across the man's face in equal measures, the screams Alan was making causing Eric to wince and turn away, trying to hide the horror on his face, but clearly whatever it was that Eric had been planning for had succeeded, for he was looking so very relieved, too.

A sharp stinging jerked Alan's eyes away from Eric and he fell back into the bed, writhing again at the pain, before falling down onto the mattress as he stopped glowing, a slash appearing in his side. Gingerly, he reached down, shaking from exertion and pain from all the writhing he had been doing, and traced it, realising that something was stuck in it. Biting down on his lip he reached into the cut, no longer making any noise, he grasped whatever it was firmly, giving it a sharp tug and pulling it out of his body quickly, able to withstand the pain as it was less than that of an attack, and certainly less than what he had just been through.

Coated in sweat, he reached down to cover the cut with his hand, before deciding against that and wadding up the bed covers to cover the tear in his side, using his other hand to bring the object to his face. It was a thorn, he realised, after staring at it for a while, but large enough to have had to have come from some kind of goliath plant, almost extending out past the edges of his palm. Alan stared down at it tiredly for a moment, not quite understanding what it meant, before it finally dawned on him…

Eric had been out so often because he was collecting one thousand souls – that was the only way to ever have been recorded of saving a Shinigami's life from the things, though it was only a rumour, as far as Alan was aware. But then again, so had the Thorns been, until he had got them. The Thorns were only a tale because the horror wasn't supposed to be widespread and scare people… so the cure was only a rumour so that people who had the Thorns didn't go out and try it. Horrified, Alan dropped the thorn onto the bed with a thump, before turning his head to look at Eric, wide eyed.

But Eric wasn't there. Alan eyed the room, noticing a woman with caramel coloured skin rushing to the window, her black hair tied in an escaping bun, Eric clearly having left that way. To confirm his suspicions, another nurse, this one with bronze skin and a black plait, hovered over him, asking if he knew where Eric was likely to go, having escaped from the room through the window.

Alan, unable to think clearly, shook his head, closing his eyes in horror at the whole situation. Eric had killed _one thousand_ innocent people to save his life, and now he was going to be hunted down and put on trial, and most likely killed for his actions. Actions that Alan hadn't even wanted him to take, or known about. And not only that, but the man had kissed him as if he were important and made a fool out of him by lying to him about his many dates. A single tear slipped out of Alan's eye as the nurses removed his glasses and pulled the blanket away from him to get a good look at the wound, before one of them rushed off to get supplies to stitch it up with.

"Oh Eric," Alan whispered, fingers clenching in despair and utter confusion as to how this had even happened. "What have you done?"

With that, everything went black, but not before Alan could throw a wild wish to the wind that Eric would come out of the trial alive. He was furious with him, yes, but he didn't want him dead. He just knew that everything after that moment would be a messy affair, and he wasn't sure how he was going to handle it, but he supposed now, with the loss of his Thorns, he had one less thing to worry about. Or at least… he hoped he had lost the Thorns. If he hadn't, then Eric would have killed one thousand innocent people for no reason. With so many thoughts swirling around in his mind, it was no wonder he had passed out from exhaustion and shock.

 **Author's Note: Happy Halloween everyone! I will be posting another story later today, seeing as I need something to keep me awake today. I accidentally turned myself nocturnal by not sleeping at night the other day, and so I've been awake all night. Therefore, the only plan of action I have is to stay awake all day and sleep tonight to put myself right. Anyway, this one isn't very Halloweeny, but it wasn't supposed to be. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you keep an eye out for the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only the OCs and this particular story line.

One Thousand Souls Chapter One

Eric shifted, nerves tingling across his body as he looked up at the Dispatch Building. He wasn't nervous about going back to work, or course, but rather, nervous to be seeing Alan again. They hadn't seen each other since Eric's trail, and they hadn't spoken with each other since the night Eric cured Alan. There was every chance that Alan was furious with him. To further support this argument, Alan had ignored the blonde when he was let off from the death penalty, William having got the judges to focus on why he did what he did, not what he did, even after he had called out to the little brunette.

Sighing, Eric started forwards again, keeping his eye out for the brunette. Raising his arm to sling his scythe across his shoulders, as always, Eric remembered that he didn't have a scythe any longer – or rather, he wasn't allowed to keep it any longer. He had to check it out with William T. Spears, and he had to be supervised at all times, as were the terms of the punishment when he was saved. Eric had spent time in the Shinigami jail – five months, now – and he was back out again, and going back to work, where he would stay, provided he displayed good behaviour. William, he was aware, had requested him back early because the Collections department was seriously understaffed, again.

As far as Eric was aware, only Alan, Grell, Ronald, Jorge Payne (a friend of Grell's), William and his friend Jose Snider, were working there now, so he had been released to help them, unlikely to go back in, for now that Alan was safe, Eric was certain that he wouldn't be causing any more problems. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Eric stepped through the doors, and was immediately surrounded by a group of babbling women.

"Oh, Eric, honey," a woman with short, strawberry-blonde hair cried, hands latching onto his arm. "It's been so long!"

"Oh, Eric dear," another woman, this one with silver hair, attached herself to his other side, causing him to tense in annoyance. He didn't like the fact that he was unable to move his arms to defend himself, not that he was going to be attacked. He just felt a lot more vulnerable when he was pinned down the way he was, even by clingy secretaries. Especially by clingy secretaries. "You haven't been around in _so_ long. Where were you?"

Eric blinked, annoyed at their flirting, his eyebrows furrowing. How could they not know? As far as he could tell, according to Grell, his trial had been a pretty big occurrence. Rare was it when a Shinigami was tried for crimes against humans, Grell's stint as Jack the Ripper a few years ago being the last one in the London division, and the time before that, it had been a man in Scotland, named Angus McDonald, who had gone mad and started killing humans for their souls, information later coming to light that he had been taken control of by a demon, and had been used. His ability to do field work was brought into question, of course, but he was released from the prison and the mind link with the demon was broken, meaning that he was free. Honestly, Eric had been surprised that he had managed to be let off from the death penalty at all.

"Yer don' know?" He asked, looking around in confusion. The two next to him shook their heads sadly, along with the three before him, strands of hair in light brown, silver and ginger being shaken from the styles they were in. "How can yer no'?"

"No one ever tells us the gossip, Eric. You know that." It was the ginger girl, Maisie Russell, that spoke, her finger raising to her lips as she did, clearly having taken flirting tips from Grell. Somehow, Eric thought that those techniques only worked for Grell, and only on the one man that Grell really wanted them to work on. William T. Spears was certainly attracted to Grell, though Eric wasn't sure if he knew it yet. Grell certainly didn't.

"Ah, well then, Maisie," he said, curiously pulling on his arms to see if the girls would let him go. They wouldn't. "I was in prison."

That made the girls drop his arms, stumbling back a few steps. Each of them wore expressions on their face of horror, their eyes looking as if they were ready to pop out of their faces they were open so wide.

"For what, Eric honey?" Maisie asked, fiddling with a strand of her curly ginger hair. "It wasn't anything awful, was it?"

"For stealing the souls of one thousand humans, actually," came the cool voice of the supervisor of the secretaries, the expression on her face fixed much like William's. Her short, dark brown hair that was pulled away from her face, combined with her dark framed glasses and tall, tense stature made her an intimidating figure among the secretaries, much like William was among the Collection agents. Eric would have wondered if they were siblings, if it weren't for the fact that the woman had much darker skin. "Now, I believe you have work to be doing. All of you."

She levelled her stare at Eric, raising an eyebrow at him as if _he_ had made them stop their work to come and talk to him. Sheepishly, he looked down, wondering if it was worth her strict wrath to point out that he hadn't been expecting the surprise attack. Noticing the annoyed look a small brunette who was entering the building gave him, and the amused one his friend Jose sent his way, Eric decided it wasn't. He didn't want to give Jose more of a reason to laugh. And the small brunette… well, it was Alan, wasn't it? He loved the smaller man, and he wasn't going to cause him more anger and annoyance. Keeping quiet was his best bet.

"Maisie Russell," her voice was clipped and annoyed, and she looked down at the folder in her hands, eyeing it in disapproval. "Mr. Spears from Collections has asked that you go and do some work for him while Miss Irwin is busy with Grell."

At the name 'Grell', the woman's eyebrow twitched, reminding Eric of just how scarily similar she was to William. Her head raised to look at the ginger woman across from her, who had gone paler, her freckles standing out more.

"Yes, Mrs Alford," the ginger mumbled, before turning and speeding off towards the Collections area of the building, her green cardigan trailing behind her as her heels tapped a sharp, speedy tune into the floor. Eric watched her go, wondering how Mrs Alford had ever found herself a husband, but shrugged it off as she began speaking again.

"Erin Bailey," the strawberry-blonde woman that had previously been attached to his arm straightened up at once, brushing down her turquoise shirt discreetly. "Mr Kelly has asked for you to do something for him, though I have little idea as to what it could be."

Erin ran off in the direction of the Management department, and Eric relaxed a little, glad to think that one of the people who was likely to cling to his arms was gone, leaving him with at least one free one should the girls get excitable again.

"Megan James, you have been requested to help Mr. Payne in the Collections department. I request that you then clean up the atrocious mess that you have allowed your desk to become." The silver haired woman that hadn't been attached to Eric's side sidled off, ready to carry out what had been asked of her, Mrs Alford turning on the silver haired girl that had been grasping his arm earlier when she left.

"Alicia Powell," Alicia looked down at her shirt, though Eric's eyes didn't follow. It was bright yellow and hurt his eyes rather a great deal. "Please refrain from wearing such colours in future. They are an assault on the eye. Now, Mr. Madden in the Academy wishes for you to help him for the day, so you will go and comply with his orders."

"Yes, Ma'am," Alicia nodded, before heading back out through the doors Eric had come through. Alan was no longer standing there, though Eric had been expecting that. Alan had no reason to stay with Eric any longer, as he should have made it as a free-standing Dispatch officer now. He didn't need someone to go with him all the time because of the Thorns, anymore, and he had grown used to, in the last five months, working without Eric. Finally, Mrs. Alford turned on the brown haired girl who remained.

"Alexandria Crompton…" She paused, looking down at her list and pushing up her glasses in obvious annoyance. "There is nothing for you to do, as such. However, I would appreciate it if you found some way in which to make yourself useful, rather than lollygagging around with Mr Slingby here."

Lollygagging seemed like a rather interesting word to Eric, and it seemed stranger when said with Mrs Alford's strict, flat voice, but he restrained himself from laughing. It wouldn't do to get himself in trouble with people on his first day back, no matter how cool he wished to seem. Quickly, Alexandria scurried away, stumbling a few times in her heels, which made his attempt not to laugh an even harder ordeal.

"As for you, Mr Slingby," Eric gulped as Mrs Alford turned her cold eyes upon him, pushing her glasses up as she spoke. "I would appreciate it if you refrained from distracting my girls from their work and hurried along to your own. If I was in your position, I would not allow myself to have any slip ups in at least my first month of working."

"Oh, give him a break, Alford," Next to him, an amused voice drawled out. "He's only just got back and those girls would have swarmed him at any time. It's not his fault that they just so happened to all be together the second work started."

"Yes, well," Mrs Alford seemed a little taken aback, before she pushed up her glasses once more and stepped back. "It was merely a suggestion, Mr-"

With that, she turned and stalked off, her heels making a sharp tapping noise against the floor. Heaving a sigh of relief, Eric turned, only to be met by the sniggering of his saviour as he tried desperately not to collapse on the floor with laughter. Finally he straightened up, the ruby ring on his left thumb glinting in the morning light. A few strands of black hair flopped over his face, hitting the large glasses he wore.

"Wow, she really hates you, Eric." Only reaching five foot ten, next to Eric, Jose looked tiny, half a foot off of the other in height.

"What do yer mean?" Chuckling, they walked side by side, heading towards Collections.

"Well, she knows your name, doesn't she? And after the stunt I just pulled, I'm pretty sure she's going to know my name, too."

"Ah, she won' know where to begin lookin'."

"There cannot be very man short, pale, black haired men that carry a scythe around in this building. I'm pretty sure it's just me and Mr Spears, and I'm not Mr Spears, clearly." He chuckled again at this, gesturing at his teeth. "Especially as I have Sutcliff's teeth. Besides," he quietened as they drew nearer to William's office. "I'm pretty sure he and she spend time regularly comparing trouble workers, so I'm bound to come up at least once."

"Yer no' tha' bad!" Eric exclaimed, quieting down when he remembered that they were outside William's office. He didn't want the man coming out of it to interrupt their conversation before they were finished. He would knock later, when they were done.

"I helped you, didn't I?" Jose asked, shaking his head to dislodge the hairs that were still laying over the lenses of his glasses. "To collect the souls, I mean?"

"Yer did," Agreed Eric, eyeing the area around them to make sure that no-one could overhear them. "Bu' I wouldn' shout tha' abou' like tha'. Yer don' wanna end up on trial. The prison food's awful."

Knowing that Jose knew more about Eric's meaning than what he had really said, Jose nodded, eyes darting around just as Eric's had before to ensure they were alone, before continuing on with the conversation.

"But seriously, Eric. Neither Nova nor I want you to keep our identities secret if it seems likely that you're going to be killed. We all played a part in this, and it doesn't seem right that we let you take the blame for us, especially if having us two and Kai there would help soften what you're accused of. Honestly, I'm sure Kai would feel the same."

"Ah, tha's really nice of yer, Jose, and I'm gonna be sure to tell Nova tha' too, bu' I don' think anything's gonna come of it anymore, so it's okay to jus' drop it now, okay?"

"I suppose you're right," Jose nodded, reaching up to place his hand over Eric's shoulder. "But you shouldn't keep our identities secret because you feel that it was your mission, and you were the only one who did it to save Alan. We didn't risk our necks just for you, you know. Alan is important to all of us. He and Nova get along well, though I don't know if Alan realises it, and Alan is a great guy, who I work well with. And as for Kai… well, Alan helped him through the Academy, so…"

Shocked, Eric blinked at Jose. He had never told the black haired man before him any of that, nor had he told Kai or Nova. Clearly, Jose knew him much better than he gave him credit for, and for that he was glad. He had a feeling he was going to need his friends to rely on if he was going to get through this time, as he knew that it may take some time before Alan would be completely comfortable around him again. Then again, he supposed, he didn't know just how annoyed or not that Alan was, anyway. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck, before turning towards William's office door, Jose still standing behind him.

"I' seems yer know me better than I do meself," he chuckled, looking back over his shoulder. "Bu' I best le' Will know tha' I'm ready to star' work now. See you later, Jose."

"You too, Eric. Oh, and one more thing," he waved over his shoulder, before pausing, though not looking back. "Talk to Alan. It's going to be tough, but then again." A small laugh could be heard. "You're a tough bloke. You can handle it."

With that, he walked away, Eric reaching up to knock on the door before him, smiling a little when William opened it up to him.

"Slingby," he said, nodding, before stepping back and allowing Eric into his room. "I suppose I don't need to remind you of the new rules." When Eric shook his head, William gestured to the boy standing in the room, Eric doing a double take, as he hadn't noticed him before.

"Allow me to introduce you to your new junior, Slingby. This is Mr Cooper, and he will be keeping an eye on you while you tutor him."

…

Eric sat in his office, which now contained three desks, instead of the two it had once contained. His new junior sat at one desk, Alan at the other, and there was a tense silence in the room. Apparently, Alan was very angry, now that he wasn't dying, as he had given Eric a furious look of betrayal or something of the like when the blonde had walked in, which had felt fairly expected, but then another look of anger had bubbled onto the brunette's face when the new junior had walked through the door, his eyes darting between the two before he sighed and looked down at his desk again, filling out some more forms.

The blonde clearly hadn't noticed the look that Alan had been giving him, however, for he completed his work in an oblivious cloud, his long blonde hair tied behind him in a ponytail, the strands only a little lighter than Eric's own, though there were no brown streaks in it. He was more muscular and taller than Alan, only two inches off of Eric's own height, though he still seemed like the smallest in the room, probably because he was younger and didn't really seem to know what he was doing, asking for help every couple of minutes, the smile on his face showing that he was very eager to please.

"Mr Slingby, sir," he called again, causing both Alan and Eric to look up. "I'm not entirely sure how to fill out this form. How is it done, exactly?"

"Bring it here, then," Eric sighed, putting down his pen and moving his documents out of the way, Alan going about his work once more. "I'll take a look."

The page was placed down in front of him, and he took a brief look at it, before realising that he wasn't entirely sure himself. He had always left those sheets for Alan to do, as the brunette had always seemed very good at them, understanding what the document was asking for in ways that Eric didn't. Before Alan had come along, he was fairly sure William had got fed up with having to complete the forms that Eric had scribbled all over, before handing them in as done, even though it was blatantly obvious that they were not, in fact, complete.

"Grea', I cannae do this." He sighed, looking up and wondering if he dared disturb Alan. It turned out he didn't need to wonder for long, because Alan looked up quickly and stared hard at Eric for a minute, before speaking.

"Is it one of _those_ sheets again?" He asked, annoyance lacing his tone. At Eric's nod, Alan sighed, clearly resisting the temptation of rolling his eyes, and turned to face the newbie. "Bring it over here, then. I'll show you how, though I have a lot to do myself."

"Ah, give over, Alan," Eric smiled, forgetting that Alan was annoyed at him and falling back into his easy friendliness with the other. "It's no' his fault tha' I can' do this, and you're always busy."

"It's Mr Humphries, Mr Slingby, and I know I'm always busy. It hasn't helped that you have been gone for so long. You have increased my work load, along with other officers having been taken out for other reasons. Honestly."

Eric blinked at the biting tone Alan used, not used to hearing such anger out of the little brunette. It wasn't like him to be so angry, and when he used the 'honestly' on the end of his sentence, he sounded very much like William. Eric wasn't entirely sure if he should laugh, or cower, but he certainly worried about the mental health of his little friend. All he wanted was for the brunette to be safe, and while he was certainly glad that the man wouldn't die on him now – so glad that he wanted to scoop him up in a hug and never let him go – he couldn't help but feel wounded by the fact that Alan wasn't at least a little bit thankful that he wasn't going to die now. Unless Alan had wanted to leave Eric all alone, because Eric knew that the brunette had feared dying, Eric was fairly sure that Alan was furious about the method. No matter how much Eric loved Alan, though, he wasn't going to apologise for killing one thousand innocent people for the brunette, the reason being precisely because he loved the brunette and wouldn't let him go.

"What is your name, anyway?" Alan's voice broke Eric's train of thought, and he blinked, finding Alan facing the other blonde in the room, his face a lot calmer than before, though there was still a fiery, angry spark behind his eyes. "If we're to be sharing an office, I need to know your name."

"It's Tyler, sir, Tyler Cooper." Stuttering, the blonde passed the page into the hand of the brunette, stepping around to view it over Alan's shoulder. The fact that such a small man could make the blonde so nervous made Eric laugh, though he kept a straight face, seeing as Tyler was so much stronger-looking and larger than Alan.

"Well then, Tyler, allow me to show you what you do." He turned to the sheet, ignoring Eric completely. "And please call me Mr Humphries, not sir. I'm hardly a sir. If you wish to call someone sir, then Mr Spears will do."

Tyler nodded, and the two continued to work on the sheet on Alan's desk until the blonde stood up and thanked the brunette, understanding on his face as he went back over to his desk to complete some more paperwork. Eric, however, was getting impatient, desperately needing to talk to Alan, though unable to do so with Tyler in the room. Quickly, Eric came up with a plan that would get Tyler out of the room for a while, seeing as he hadn't shown the boy where the break room was yet, and Jose would certainly not show him where it was. If Jorge or Grell were asked, or Ronald, there was likely to be a long time spent in the break room, discussing fashion, work or girls, so it would give Eric some time.

"Cooper," he called, fiddling with the ring in his ear as his elbow lay on his desk, his body swivelled to face the younger blonde. "Yer couldn' get me a coffee, could yer?"

"Oh," Seeming a little put out, Tyler furrowed his eyebrows, before looking around and noticing the apparent tension in the air for the first time. Understanding appeared to glow in his eyes, before he nodded. "Sure I can. Where's the break room?"

"Ah, ask around." Eric waved his hand in the air, brushing off the question with ease. "I'm sure Sutcliff'll tell yer."

"Mr Slingby, that is hardly fair," interjected Alan, placing another paper to the side as he glared at Eric. "If you really need coffee, then you should go yourself, or at least tell Tyler where he can find it. It hardly seems fair to give him overtime on his first day."

"It'll only be half an hour at mos'," Eric argued, knowing that Alan was trying to minimise the amount of time they spent together, and therefore the amount of time they could spend talking. "I'll take his overtime, anyway."

"I don't mind, Mr Humphries, really," Beaming at Alan, Tyler strode towards the door and swung it open, before moving down the corridor in search of someone who could tell him what he needed to know. Back in the office, and Alan was once again ignoring Eric, who was watching him. Surely Alan could feel the eyes on him? Whether he could or not didn't matter to Eric, who was getting impatient. He would interrupt the brunette, welcome or not.

"Alan, yer know yer can' ignore me forever." Eric told him, sighing slightly, actually wishing for coffee, as then he would have something more than a pen to fiddle with. Alan just sighed.

"Come on, Alan," Pushing, Eric got up and sat on the edge of his desk facing the brunette, folding his arms and waiting for a reply. "Wha's the matter. Won' you tell me?"

"Mr Slingby…" Alan murmured, clearly unwilling to start the conversation. Eric didn't blame him. It had the potential to be very messy indeed.

"Would yer stop tha'? Yer always call me Eric. Wha's wrong? Alan?"

"What you did…" Again, Alan didn't seem very willing to start the conversation, but clearly he knew it had to be done, because he took a deep breath and steeled himself, looking up from his work finally, eyes meeting with Eric's. "What you did was wrong."

"No it wasn'." Anything that saved the life of the brunette before him could never be seen as wrong in Eric's eyes. It just wasn't a possibility. The world could go to hell for all he cared, so long as Alan was safe. Besides, the way the humans acted nowadays, well… it rather seemed like it was sending itself to Hell anyway.

"Yes, it was, Eric." Well, at least he was back to calling the blonde Eric. "I don't think you understand."

"Well if I don', then tell me." Eric was seriously confused. Alan seemed reluctant to tell Eric what the problem was, but if he didn't tell the blonde, then the man would never know how to work on fixing their relationship. Annoyance bubbled up within Eric. "I can hardly fix something if I don' know wha' I've done, can I?"

"You should know what you've done," Alan began, and Eric was about to start speaking, before being cut off once more by the brunette's angry voice. "You, Eric, have killed one thousand people. You have killed _one thousand people_ , Eric."

It wasn't often that Alan repeated himself, and Eric knew that what he had done must have been truly awful in Alan's eyes if he felt the need to say something twice.

" _Innocent people_ , no less. And to save _me_. What could possibly have possessed you?"

Eric tried to speak again, but was cut off once more. Alan wasn't acting at all like he usually did, and it was worrying the blonde. Whilst he was feisty, yes, he was also polite, calm and collected. What Eric had done, though he didn't see any wrong in it, was clearly awful to Alan, and Eric found his belief in his ability to be forgiven diminishing very quickly.

"You know, Eric, that I didn't want others to suffer the fate that I was going to suffer, but now you have made one thousand innocent people suffer as I have. Furthermore, you have lied to me repeatedly, telling me that you were seeing that woman Nova Berry-"

Eric didn't particularly see how this was relevant.

"But you weren't, were you? You were using that time to collect souls with Nova Berry and Jose Snider, who is the real boyfriend of Nova, isn't he?"

Once more, Eric opened his mouth, ready to speak, but was cut off by the brunette.

"I don't know why you feel as if what you did was okay, Eric," Alan softened his voice a little, looking back down at his paperwork and picking up his pen, looking as if he was going to start work again. He did, in fact, pen running over the document he was holding as he spoke. "It wasn't. You killed one thousand innocent people, you lied to me, you made a fool out of me and you played with my emotions. I fought for you to stay alive, Eric, but now I'm not entirely sure why I did it."

"Played with yer emotions?" Eric asked, confusion and shocked mingling in his voice. "How did I do tha'?"

Alan stood, gathering the papers on his desk, before turning to walk out of the door.

"If you don't know already, then you don't deserve to know, Mr Slingby. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some papers to deliver to Mr Spears."

With that, Alan walked out of the room, Tyler walking in the second the brunette left. The blonde looked after him, before turning to Eric, who was still gaping at the door, through which Alan had retreated.

"Lover's quarrel?" Tyler asked, cheerfully, handing the coffee to Eric and going to sit back at his desk. "You two make a good one."

"We ain't lovers," Eric snapped, sitting down at his desk and filling out some more forms, shoulders stiff and tense. "Though no' through lack o' trying. He's really angry a' me for the momen', and I don' know wha' I've done."

"Never mind," Tyler murmured, shuffling the pages on his desk before standing, heading over to the door. "I'm sure everything will work itself out. Now, we have a collection to go to, so you're going to have to show me what to do. Let's go and check out your scythe."

"Yer no' very good at sensing emotions, are yer?" Eric asked, standing up after the blonde. "An' I'm sure it won', bu' tha' ain't fer me to decide. Now, my scythe back in my hands? Tha's the bes' news I've heard all day."

With that, the two walked out of the room, ready to start on the first collection of the day, though Eric couldn't help but let his mind wander. It wasn't his fault, but he was still caught up in Alan's words and the anger the little brunette had been giving off. Apparently, it was going to take a lot more than a few apologies to calm the little brunette down, and Eric wasn't entirely sure he was up to it. He always liked a challenge, of course, but this one seemed a bit too much of a challenge. It was a good thing he was so determined, he supposed.

Author's Note: I know Alan is out of character, and I'm sorry! He was just really angry, and I couldn't really get it across any other way. I'm sure he'll be back to his usual self soon enough! Please review, as it's always good to know what I can do to improve, and thank you for sitting all the way through to here! I know my work can be long, sometimes. I hoped you enjoyed it so far!


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: I'm sorry in advance if you find this chapter awful. I kept starting it and deleting it, and have only just managed to finish it. The first time I fell asleep after deleting it, the second time I decided food was more important (that one cannot be denied) and then now I was inspired to start the chapter, but not finish it so much. Anyway, I'm basically sorry if this chapter isn't the same quality as the last, as I'm really tired. I had two hour long biology lessons today, an hour long English lesson, an hour long history lesson and an hour long maths lesson. It's so tiring after a week off. I don't know why I didn't start writing this story sooner…**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only the plot of this story.**

The Thousand Souls Chapter Two

"So, why won't he talk to you, then?" Eric looked across the table and sighed, wondering whether it was worth eating the food that was sitting on his plate. To be honest, he didn't really feel like he had the energy to lift the fork to his mouth, he was moping so much. He and Alan hadn't talked for two days. Every time he had opened his mouth to ask what Alan had meant by his last statement, the brunette would find something to do, or ignore the blonde completely, as if he couldn't feel the tension in the room. Even Tyler, who had seemed oblivious at first, was finding every excuse he could to leave the room, as it was starting to get more than a little scary. Honestly, Eric wouldn't be surprised if Alan jumped up one day and murdered him, just to stop the blonde from opening his mouth.

"I don' know, Jose," Resting his chin on his hand, the leather of his glove cool against his cheek, Eric watched as Jose leaned back on his seat, before standing up and getting out the way as his girlfriend, Nova, came to sit down, her lunch on a tray. "He said somethin' abou' playin' with his emotions, bu' I don' know wha' he meant."

"Well, there is a simple way of finding out," Nova pointed out, tucking straight into her dessert. She always ate the sweets first, saying that she worked so hard she was allowed some relaxation time before the task of eating was to be undertaken. Jose, Eric and Kai always laughed, and she was bound to say it again during lunch. "You could ask him."

"Except he couldn't," Kai pointed out, flicking some brown curls out of his eyes, the locks falling over his new orange glasses. He was always wearing new glasses, as he worked in the glasses department, and they liked to see him model the things, but today the pair was truly awful. They were bright orange, rectangular, and small, falling down his nose more often than William's did, and they were slightly tinted, as Eric's were, only a colour that appeared to be grey. Looking vaguely put out by his new spectacles, Kai continued his sentence. "Because Alan refused to talk to him. It's sad, really, because the more Alan mopes, the more Eric mopes, and the less times we get to go out to drink as a group."

"Typical," Nova giggled, licking some cream off of her fingers. "You're always thinking about the next time to party, McFadden. You should get some perspective. Eric's _moping_. That means he's _sad_. We can't have that. Aren't you meant to be the party-boy of Collections, Eric?"

"Well, _excuse me_ ," Kai replied, smiling at the woman to show that he was merely joking. "But to be fair, a party _is_ a party. Besides, the kid with the two-toned hair is the party-boy of Collections now, isn't he? I'm merely suggesting Eric gets the title back."

"Ronald Knox?" Jose asked, blinking in surprise. Yes, Ronald was the party-boy of Collections, and yes he did flirt with the ladies a lot, but it seemed like he had his eyes set on one specific person, and it wasn't one of the women. "I think he might lose the title to that newbie soon. What's his name, Eric?"

Eric blinked, pulled out of his miserable thoughts by his name. Vaguely, he recalled that he had just been asked a question, and he raised an eyebrow in confusion, before smirking and stealing a chunk of cake off of Nova's plate. The blonde woman tapped his hand with her fork, scowling in mock indignation, but it wasn't enough to make Eric let go, and he ate it, caring very little for the fact that dessert was practically a religion for Nova.

"The newbie?" He asked, staring around as the others in the group nodded at him, faces expectant. "Tyler?"

"Tyler as in Tyler something, or Tyler as in Mr Tyler?" Kai asked, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and searching the pockets, clearly wondering if he had enough money to buy a dessert, though the rest of them around the table knew he wasn't. He never put enough money in his wallet for that, because he was on a diet, and he was taking it seriously. Jose, Nova and Eric never said they were going to help him, though.

"Tyler Cooper," Eric replied, before turning back to his food and shoving it away from him, Jose eyeing him worriedly for a minute, before picking up the fork and tucking in. He was always eating, and it annoyed the rest of them, because he still managed to stay toned and thin. If Eric ate constantly, he was fairly sure he would put on weight, and for Kai it was a known fact. Nova would put on weight, but she would work it all off again when she exercised, though that hardly counted as the same thing, as lazing about all day, eating yourself out of house and home was not the same thing as working the calories off. Eric sighed.

"Well, anyway," Jose said, clearly noticing Eric's depressed tone again. "There must be another way that we can work out what is wrong with Alan. 'Played with his emotions'… What could Eric have possibly done?"

"I don' know…" Eric whined, leaning back in his chair and glancing around the room, seeing Alan sitting and eating alone. The sight upset him. Alan had always had someone to talk to before, namely him, and the tiny man being alone didn't sit right with Eric. He knew he had to change that quickly, but he had no idea how. "All I did was give him the souls. I couldn' have done anything awful."

Kai, Nova and Jose talked among themselves for a minute, Eric still looking around the room. Grell was sitting with her friends Bianca and Frieda, Bianca's messy white hair flowing around her head like a cloud, Frieda's silver hair tied back into a tidy bun. Ronald was with some of the secretaries, though his eyes were trailing a man that worked in the School Department around the room. He looked very similar to William T. Spears, Eric noticed, save for the fact that he had chocolate coloured skin and was slightly shorter. Oh… and he looked ever so slightly more stressed than the supervisor of Collections, probably due to the fact that he had to oversee teaching of many, many students, all of which were like Ronald, Grell and he. Eric sighed again. At least he wasn't the only one in the room with a helpless love, Grell and Ronald joining him in that category.

"Are you even listening to us, Eric?" Nova's shrill voice cut through his thoughts again, and Eric turned back to them, eyes dancing over Alan one more time, before meeting with his friends. "Seriously. No wonder you never know how to deal with things. You never listen."

She threw her hands up in the air, before starting to tuck into her main meal. Jose decided that it was probably better to take over the talking for her, seeing as she was a little moody that day.

"We've been talking," he began, the sharp tips of his teeth just able to be seen. Eric wondered if Grell felt any sort of friendship towards the man because they shared strange features. Then again, did Grell talk to any men that she found unworthy? Unlikely.

"Yeah, I know," Eric informed him, before slumping onto the table and turning to look at Alan again, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance to see that the brunette was still sitting alone. Didn't Alan have any friends? It was sad to think that he had been one of Alan's only friends, or at least one of the only ones that spent every day with Alan. "He looks so sad, though."

"Who?" Kai and Jose looked around, Nova too interested in her pie to notice anything that was going on around her. When they spotted Alan, they turned back, expressions of sympathy on their faces.

"You really love him, don't you?" Kai asked, as if he had been unsure up until that point. Eric was a little unsure why. It wasn't like you could be feeling hazy on the certainty of his love for the brunette when he killed one thousand innocent people just to keep him alive. Snorting slightly, Eric turned away from his friends and back to Alan, wondering if anyone was going to sit down with him.

"That," Jose decided, "Was a stupid question, Kai. But nevertheless, it will help me to prove the point I'm trying to make. Eric – Hey, Eric!"

Jumping slightly, Eric turned to his friends, who were still snapping their fingers in his face, only stopping when he seemed really alert. Then, they started talking again.

"Eric, you love Alan, but you don't know if he loves you or not, correct?"

"Correct."

"If he were to kiss you, out of the blue, and then not explain it, and not do it again, or even mention it again, what would you do?"

"Presume he was drunk. Only, someone would have spiked his drink, 'cause he don' drink much himself."

"Yes, fair enough," Jose allowed, "but how would it make you feel?"

"A little played, I guess."

"Exactly. You would feel as if your emotions had been played with."

"So," Eric raised an eyebrow, looking between the three surrounding him, and tried to suppress a laugh. "You're sayin' tha' Alan is annoyed at me 'cause he doesn' know if I love him or not? I doubt tha' guys."

The concept that his friends had come up with was ridiculous, and Eric knew it, though he wasn't sure they did. Finally, unable to help it any longer, he let out a hearty laugh, many heads turning to face him in the dining hall. This would be the first time they had heard him laugh since he had returned, and even though it had only been three days, people were probably worried about him, thinking that prison had damaged him in some way, as he had always been laughing before.

Even Alan looked over, Eric noticed, the look on his face showing disapproval and annoyance, along with some sort of pained look, though Eric had no idea what that was about. He was looking less lonely, though, as he was finally sitting at the table with two girls. One had messy auburn hair and fair skin, the other tanned skin and long, curly ginger hair. They were both pretty looking, and Eric was fairly sure, from what Alan had said about them before, that their names were Evelyn and Elizabeth – no, that wasn't right. Lizbeth? He thought it was Lizbeth – and they were dating.

Back on his own table, and Jose was looking a little annoyed, hand linked with Nova's, who had finally stopped eating.

"It's not as ridiculous as you may think," Kai argued, pushing his glasses up once more, and Eric realised slowly that he hadn't mentioned dessert once that day, causing him to chuckle softly to himself. The rest of the table didn't look very amused.

"No, seriously, Eric," Nova said, speaking for the first time in a while. "I know these things, and I'm fairly certain that Alan is so annoyed at you because you made him believe the kiss was for a reason other than saving his life, but now it seems like it wasn't to him. You made a fool of him with that and you made him believe that you and I were dating, even though we weren't, and it upset him because _he_ _loves you_."

Eric blinked at them in surprise, thinking it through. What they were saying, now that he thought about it, did sound at least a little likely, but still, no matter how true it was, what could he do about it. And another thing… Just because he had to kiss Alan to pass on the souls didn't mean he wouldn't do it again. The brunette had to see that, hadn't he?

"Bu' I didn' kiss him just for tha'… Yeah, it was my primary reason, bu' I weren' the only one."

"Does Alan know that?"

Eric shook his head, turning his gaze back to where the brunette was sitting, only to find that he was gone. Turning back to his friends, he asked them what they supposed that he should do.

"Talk to him," Jose replied, before standing up and brushing himself down. Quickly, he kissed Nova on the cheek, before stepping back, the rest of the group following suit and standing. As they were leaving the diner, the group pressed at Eric, telling him to talk to the brunette, not stopping until he agreed to do so. Besides, he realised, what harm could it do? They were going to have to speak sooner or later, and he would rather it be sooner, not later.

…

Alan was sitting at his desk, working methodically, when the door opened, and Eric walked in. The sight of the blonde brought an immediate scowl to his face, though Alan had no idea why. He wanted to say it was because the blonde had killed one thousand innocent people just to keep him alive, and while that was wrong, and Alan didn't approve of it, that wasn't the true reason he was so angry. Anger bubbled within him because Eric had made him believe, even for just a tiny amount of time, that he might have a chance with the blonde, but then he had snatched it all away, and that wasn't something that Alan could deal with. Couldn't the other man have found a better way to pass on the souls, instead of making a fool out of him and lying to him and then getting himself _locked up_ – suddenly it dawned on him that Eric was sitting on his desk.

Looking up, Alan made sure to scowl again, just so the blonde knew that he wasn't let out of the dog-house yet.

"Could you get off of my desk, please, Mr Slingby?"

"No," Eric informed him, swinging his legs and leaning forwards, making sure that Alan had to lean away from his work, or their faces would be touching once more. "We need to talk."

"I'm busy." Talking with Eric was something that he really didn't want to do, because he knew that if they ever got into a conversation about the problem, the fact that he loved the other would be all too obvious, and he would lose the friendship forever. Better to destroy it without feeling any embarrassment and pain about being mocked, than to let it fall apart because he had feelings that the other would find uncomfortable at the very least. "I have work to do."

"Yer can' always be busy," Eric pointed out, looking down at the paperwork on the desk and raising an eyebrow. "Besides, this is all done."

"I need to deliver it to Mr Spears' office." Alan argued, standing up and making to collect the sheets of the document, stopped only by the fact that Eric held onto half of the pile, and the brunette was not going to get into a scuffle over paperwork when the only reason he wanted to deliver it to Mr Spears' office was to get away from Eric. A scuffle was the exact opposite of that. "And I want some tea."

"I'll ge' yer some tea," Eric argued, "If yer'll just talk to me."

"Mr Slingby," Exasperated, Alan sat back down, wondering just how he was going to get out of the situation. He didn't want to talk to Eric, but it seemed as if it would be inevitable now. "I believe that I have told you that I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alan," Sighing, Eric leant forwards, elbows resting on his knees. "Look, I know yer angry at me, and I think I know why, though I won' embarrass yer by tellin' yer. Jose, Nova and Kai helped me realise, bu' tha' ain't the point."

He leaned back again, looking down at Alan, Alan looking up at him with wide eyes, heart beating fast. Why was the man so attractive? Everything about him, from his crazy hairstyle to his Scottish accent. It was all so… so… undeniable. Alan couldn't resist Eric anything, though he could give it his best shot. Time. Time was all he needed to prepare himself for the conversation that they were going to have, so time was what he was going to give himself.

"Look, Mr Slingby." Looking down at his watch, Alan realised that what he had then really was no time. He was due for a hospital appointment in twenty minutes, and it would take him fifteen minutes to get there. The work day was out for him, anyway, as it was a half day in his schedule. Turning his face back to Eric, he stood up and grabbed his coat, dodging out of the way when Eric tried to block him into the office. "I really do have to go now. I have a Doctor's appointment…"

At Eric's worried look, Alan's eyes softened a little. The blonde had gone to so much effort just to save him after all, it seemed cruel to make him think that he had failed in his task.

"It's just a check-up, nothing more. I'm completely healthy, as far as the Doctors' are concerned." Eric appeared to relax, and Alan wanted to, too. It would be all too easy to relax back into their happy, friendly attitude around one another, and Alan would, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that he knew he would slip up, and he knew that Eric wanted to talk about what had happened. To defend himself, he had put up a wall of anger, and that was what he was hiding behind. However, if Eric could find the correct way to break down the wall, then Alan wouldn't stop him. But coming out from behind it and relaxing, when he was standing in front of a firing squad in his heart? That wasn't an option.

"Look," he said, checking his watch again, eyes widening. He had spent too long talking to Eric and was going to be late if he didn't get a shift on very quickly. "I'm free on Monday morning before work, alright. We can talk then."

"Thanks," Eric said, smiling at Alan. The brunette didn't return it, instead speaking one more time.

"I'm expecting a very good story, Eric. Please have something better in mind than 'I just needed to save you'. You better have a very solid and valid reason."

With that, Alan turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a dumbstruck Eric behind him. It didn't take him long to leave the Dispatch building, though he did wonder if he was being too harsh on Eric. Then again, he supposed, he wasn't only doing it to upset Eric, but more to protect himself. Either way, he decided, he was going to carry on doing so until he was absolutely certain that he could forgive Eric and not make a fool out of himself whilst doing it.

….

Eric went home happy that night, though slightly worried that Grell was going to jump out of the bushes and try to rip him apart with her chainsaw. He and Ronald had got a little excitable after Alan had left, and they had run around the office, only to run into Grell's room and into her desk, spilling ink all over her and her paperwork. In fact, she had chased them around the corridors until William had shown up, putting a stop to that quickly and giving Grell overtime.

Eric felt a little bad, considering that it had been he and Ronald's fault, but then again, he was going through a difficult time right then, and so was Ronald, chasing after a man that didn't even realise he existed. In fact, the only person in the office who didn't seem to be totally stressed out and facing a pressing problem, instead of one that they had been facing for years, was Grell. The thought comforted Eric a little, though he supposed that it shouldn't.

Before long, after having eaten something, Eric lay on his bed, wondering what he would tell Alan on Monday. He had no good excuses, just things such as 'I love you' and 'I can't lose you'. Somehow, he doubted they would work, but he would give it a try. Besides, he realised, he had all weekend to think of a more solid reason than what he had for the moment. Closing his eyes, Eric just hoped that Alan would be a little less moody on Monday, because he really did want their animosity to pass.

"I love yer, Alan," he murmured, lying on his side. "Isn't that reason enough?"

Eric hoped it was, because that was the only reason he had.


	4. Chapter Three

_**Author's Note**_ : **Tomorrow is going to be my last post in a while, though, guys, sorry! I'm going to be coming straight home at four from school, to then go kickboxing, and then go out to a Bonfire night parade. And then on Friday I'm entertaining a guest through until Saturday, when yet more guests are coming, so I won't be posting again until Sunday, save for tomorrow. I just thought I would warn you in advance, because I'll most likely forget tomorrow…. Mostly because I might not even post tomorrow. I'll likely come home and go straight to sleep. I have a German exam and an RE test, which I'm supposed to be studying for now instead of writing this, and mini-assessments in maths, which is going to be** _ **fun**_ **. Anyway, please be patient, because this story is going to continue, and might tomorrow, if I find out I got somewhere between a B and an A* on my History test... yeah, okay… so fat chance…** **Hope you enjoy the story, and also, ignore my babbling. I talk** _ **way**_ **too much. Mostly because people hardly ever listen to me… aw… doing it again. Sorry!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, only the OCs and this storyline (and the other stories I've written, but that's beside the point).

One Thousand Souls Chapter Three

"You would have thought," Lizbeth commented, pushing her auburn hair out of her face once more, "That Eric would have bothered showing up on time, seeing as he pushed this meeting so hard."

"That's what Alan said," agreed Evelyn, tying her own long, curly ginger hair into a braid. "But maybe that's just what he wants us to believe. He doesn't want us knowing that he caved so easily to the love of his life."

She poked him in the arm, startling the brunette out of staring at the door and causing him a little confusion. What, exactly, where they talking about?

"Didn't you hear us, Alan?" Lizbeth pouted, still attempting to tame her messy locks. "We were saying that Eric could at least have turned up on time."

"He likes to sleep in," Alan pointed out, forgetting, for the moment, that he was angry at said blonde, instead immediately jumping to his defence, as he had done in the past. "You know that. Morning is 'evil' and can only be bared if slept through, or something of the sort?"

"Well, _yes_ ," agreed Evelyn, walking over from the door to sit on the brunette's desk, just as her girlfriend was doing, Alan standing in the centre of the room, unsure as to where Eric was, exactly. He had been the one pushing for this talk, and now he couldn't be bothered to show up for it? It was certainly another let-down in Alan's books, and he sighed, glancing up at the clock. It was ten to nine, meaning that if their talk was to take place, it was going to be a very short one, or it would run into work time. Unless Eric came up with a very good reason, Alan felt certain he would be furious with Eric for gaining him more overtime. Quite frankly, however, if Eric wanted to get himself overtime, then he was, by all means, welcome to it. "But seriously. We came here to wait with you because we thought we _wouldn't_ be late for work. Mrs Alford is going to have our hides if we don't get into the foyer soon."

"You don't have to stay here," Alan pointed out reasonably, stepping back a little to lean against Tyler's desk, which was directly facing the door, so should anyone come in, he would be the first to know about it. "I work here, after all. It's not like I'm somewhere I shouldn't be. I don't need a look out."

"Oh, Honey," Lizbeth drawled, pushing herself off of the desk and onto her tall, beige heels. "You definitely need a look-out. I don't know what sort of trouble you'd get into otherwise. I don't know how angry you can get, but you certainly made that blonde oaf you're so enamoured with leave with his tail between his legs."

"I thought Miss Sutcliff did that."

"What?"

"I thought Miss Sutcliff made Eric leave with his tail between his legs." At the others' blank and confused looks, Alan sighed and elaborated. "As far as I can work out, from gossip I heard from Ronald in the pub the other night, Miss Sutcliff made Eric and Ronald leave with their tails between their legs, not me." He stopped to think for a minute, then commented, idly. "I have no idea where Tyler Cooper was in all this."

"Oh," Lizbeth looked a little put-out, but she brightened up again almost immediately. "Well… I'm not even going to ask, Honey." She smiled then, brightly. "But if you _do_ happen to see Grell today, be sure to tell her that we're waiting for another one of her little beauty tips."

Lizbeth winked, Evelyn pushing herself off of the desk and coming to link arms with the other, her brown heels tapping against the floor and making her even higher than her usual six foot two. It was a good thing Evelyn liked to stand out, Alan decided, because if not, she would hate her height. She was taller than him by just under a foot. It was embarrassing. Why, exactly, was he so small? Even Lizbeth stood taller than him, at five foot seven, taller now that she was in heels. Considering investing in a pair of heels himself, Alan watched them warily. Sometimes, they had some strange ideas, and he hoped today wasn't the day.

Luckily, it wasn't.

"Well, we literally have to run, now," Lizbeth nodded to the clock, before turning on her heel and opening the door, waiting for Evelyn to follow her. It didn't take long, only enough time to step over to Alan and kiss him on the cheek, friendlily, before stepping back and smiling at him, before telling him to 'make him jealous, Honey,"

"I don't want to make him jealous," Alan called after them, frowning slightly. "I want to make him… Well, I don't know, actually…" He trailed off, unsure. What _did_ he want to make Eric? Annoyed, apologetic, happy? Well, certainly happy… He always wanted Eric to be happy, but now was not the time. Seeing as he had a long life to live out from now on, he decided it was time to make himself happy, too. He was going to have to live the life for a while, after all.

Some voices pulled him out of his reverie.

…..

"So… what are you going to say to him, exactly?" Jose asked, pushing at his hair and frowning as it fell back onto his face. "That you love him? I thought he wanted a solid reason."

"He does," Eric replied, rubbing the back of his neck and hunching his shoulders, feeling very awkward. "But I don' know wha' else I can tell him, seein' as I've go' nothin'. Have you go' somethin'?"

"No," Jose trailed off, looking around. "But you know, you haven't really got much time, anymore. Work starts in…" he checked his watch, eyebrow raising in surprise. "One minute. Good luck with that."

Eric frowned, running a gloved hand through his hair once more, groaning slightly. It was annoying that he had spent so much time wondering about what he was going to say that morning that he had forgotten to pick his pace up and arrive in time. That was another reason for Alan to hate him, then. _Good going, Eric_ , he thought. A small detail, however, caught his attention, causing him to smile. Maybe he still had some time yet.

"Miss Irwin ain't here ye'," Jose looked at the desk just outside William's office door, only to notice that the chair behind it was, indeed, unoccupied. "An' look. Those two secretaries are only jus' goin' down to the foyer now."

Watching as Jose followed his gaze, Eric breathed a sigh of relief, only to hold his breath again at the black haired man's furrowed brow.

"Wha's tha' look fer?"

"Well, that's Lizbeth and Evelyn, isn't it?"

Eric looked at them, scanning them up and down. There was a short one and a tall one, arm in arm, both with willowy, curvy body shapes and pretty faces, one with auburn hair, the other with ginger hair. Both of them appeared to be glaring at Eric, the ginger one – Evelyn – pushing her glasses up as they passed.

"Yeah," Eric agreed, turning back to Jose. "Wha' of it?"

"Well, they're friends with Alan, aren't they?"

Just as he was about to reply, however, a call came from behind him, causing the both of them to turn around, straight into the face of Evelyn and Lizbeth.

"If you hurt Alan, Slingby," Evelyn began, sweetly, Lizbeth finishing off the sentence, her voice sugar-coated. "We will personally rip your eyes out with a scythe and then set a demon on you."

"Wh-" Eric tried to ask, raising an eyebrow, confused by what the girls were saying and wanting to point out that he could never hurt Alan. Not in a million years.

"However, if you're nice to him," Lizbeth began, voice back to normal, Evelyn finishing the sentence, sounding disinterested and shining her nails on her jacket. "We might consider baking you cookies for Christmas, or something."

With that they turned and walked off, Jose and Eric left to stare after them in shock and confusion, before turning around themselves and blinking for a few seconds, before bursting into laughter. _Wow_ , Eric thought. _Alan, Yer have some crazy friends_.

"Guess that answers my question," Jose snorted, noticing the door to the office shared by the blonde and the brunette was slightly ajar. He looked between Eric and the door, before slapping the other on the back, waving above his head as he carried on walking, not looking back.

"Have fun with your brunette," he called, amusement still heard clearly in his voice. "Hope the crazy girls don't come back. They were _insane_."

And with that he was gone, down to his own office. Eric dawdled in the corridor for a second longer, nerves tingling through his body at what he was about to do, before finally stepping forward and pushing open the door cautiously, looking around for the brunette.

"Alan?" He asked.

….

Alan had slipped into his own desk by the time Eric and Jose had stopped blabbing about in the corridor and disrespecting his friends. After a few seconds of silence, Eric poked his head into the room, looking around for him, and Alan sighed, before sitting up. Well, he was _here_ , he supposed, but it was hardly a gold star situation. Work was five minutes started already.

"I'll thank you kindly not to talk about my friends that way, Mr Slingby," Alan informed him, face stony as he went about scanning a sheet, trying to ignore the upset and annoyed look the blonde was giving him. It wasn't fair that the blonde could make him feel like he was in the wrong, especially seeing as he was in the right. "And you're late. You've missed the time I had allocated us to talk, so you'll have to ask again later."

"Ah, Alan, don' be like tha'," the other groaned, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand, eyes fixed on Alan's face. Shifting uncomfortably, Alan looked up, annoyed that the blonde could create such reactions within him. "I was only late 'cause yer asked for me to have a good reason, and I can still think of only one."

"One good reason?" Raising an eyebrow, Alan looked up from his work once more, before looking down again. Surely, if he only had one reason, then it was going to be a very good one. Hopefully, it would be very detailed, and worth something to Alan. If it was something like 'you're my best friend, and I can't see you go', Alan wasn't sure if he would cry or punch the blonde. Crying seemed like a good idea because if he said 'best friend', Eric would confirm the fact that they would never be more and that the kiss meant nothing to him, and punching him seemed like a good idea because… well, it always seemed like a good idea when the blonde opened his mouth. Alan could trust him to say something inappropriate or annoying whenever he moved his mouth. Suddenly, Alan realised that Eric was still staring at him. He looked down, cheeks heating.

"Only one good reason?" He asked again, pretending to read the document in his gloved hands, though really too caught up in Eric to actually understand what he was reading. "Then you hardly need much time, do you, Mr Slingby?"

"Would yer stop tha'?" Eric asked, sounding a little annoyed, moving stealthily so that he was around the same side of the desk as Alan. The brunette felt himself tense up, before turning slightly, only to find that Eric's face was very close to his. He blushed, but hoped that the light was shining in such a way that it wasn't obvious. "I'm tryna talk to yer, bu' yer no' listenin'. How am I supposed to make it up to yer if yer won' le' me?"

Heart beating fast, Alan pushed his chair back a little bit, not trusting himself to be so close to Eric's face without leaning up and kissing the man, no matter what he had done. Yes, he had killed one thousand innocent souls, but it was Eric, and if he had a good reason – a very good reason, mind – then Alan would forgive him. He would have to forgive him, because Eric was such an important person to him. He didn't even know when the blonde had become so important, but they had been friends for a long time, and it seemed silly to think of a time when he hadn't fancied the man. Maybe he always had, though he doubted he had always loved the man, as he could remember the exact moment that had happened.

Most of his friends thought that it was when he had been on his first Reap and they had watched the Erica flowers falling around them like snow, but it hadn't been. It had been one day in the office, when Eric brought him a cup of tea in a flower covered mug – he had stolen it from 'Grell's special cupboard', Alan later learned – and started naming the flowers on it and telling the brunette what they were and asking if he had their meaning correct.

It had proved to him, at that point in time, that he wasn't alone in the world. Someone out there cared enough to listen to what he had to say and took note of anything he told them. Someone out there, someone very close, wanted to spend time talking with him and messing around with him. Not only had he wanted to be with the blonde, but the blonde wanted to be with him, at least a as a friend, so when Eric had brought him that cup of tea, he had realised, suddenly, that he would do anything for Eric, anything at all. Now, it seemed, that Eric would do some pretty drastic things for him too, but why? Well, that was anybody's guess.

"I never asked you to make it up to me," Alan replied coolly, trying to reach for another sheet of paperwork, desperately hoping that he could use it to block his face and his flustered confusion, but Eric reached out and gripped his wrist, stopping him. "You took it upon yourself to complete that task."

"'Cause I don' wan' to end up no' speakin' to yer ever again," Eric practically growled, searching Alan's eyes. He knew he was annoying the blonde, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, anger bubbling up within him, too. Who did Eric think he was, being so lovable and caring and just plain wonderful? How was it fair to be all of those things, when you only used it to confuse and mess with the people around you? It wasn't fair, and it was making Alan want to tear his hear out. He hoped that Lizbeth and Evelyn had threatened the man with such pain when they had walked past him earlier. It seemed a likely reason for Jose and Eric's insistence that they were, indeed, crazy.

Deliberately, Alan replied in such a way that it would infuriate the blonde.

"We're speaking right now, aren't we?"

That appeared to be enough for the blonde, because the massive man slammed his hand onto the table and grabbed Alan's wrist, pulling him to his feet and out of the chair, making it out of the doorway of the office before Alan realised what was going on. By the time he did understand, he started struggling desperately, but then stopped, realising he was going to catch some unwanted attention. Instead, he let himself be dragged to wherever it was Eric was taking him, blinking when they came to the break room. Was Eric's need for coffee that desperate?

"Tea, please," Alan said, still unsure why they were there. Asking for tea brought a chuckle out of Eric, though, and the blonde let go of him and locked the door, before starting to potter about in the cupboards, reaching into Grell's one, full of cookie baking and cake baking items, to find the flower cup, making Alan's heart squeeze in his chest painfully. Why did the blonde have to bring up such memories now?

"Yer remember this cup, don' yer, Alan?" The blonde looked cautious, as if he didn't know how Alan would respond. Nodding slightly, Alan eyed the room warily, suspecting someone to jump out, someone such as Kai or Nova, to tell him that he was being played with. What, exactly, was going on? Nothing was adding up to him anymore, and it was confusing him to no end.

"Why are we here?"

"'Cause there's no work for yer to do here," Eric replied, before asking about the cup again, emerald eyes shining in the light, making Alan shift uncomfortably as Eric's eyes fell over him.

"Of course I remember the cup," Alan sighed, finally, crossing the small break room to fiddle with it, twisting it this way and that by the handle to calm his nerves. He could feel Eric hovering over his shoulder, watching him intently, and it was worrying him. What was the other man going to do? It wasn't that he didn't trust Eric, because he did, but the whole situation was setting him on edge. "You named the flowers and told me what they mean. You were mostly right, as well."

Eric chuckled at that, scratching at his blonde locks and shifting, a self-deprecating look on his face when Alan kidnapped a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye.

"Of course I wasn' gonna be amazin' at it. Yer the flower genius. I just listen to wha' yer say."

Alan felt himself smiling a little at this, stepping back as Eric pulled the boiled kettle over and poured water into the cup, along with the splash of milk and the teabag, stepping away to hold up the wall when the cup was full, waiting for it to brew.

"Eric," Alan sighed, watching as the brown of the tea mixed with the white of the milk, creating elegant swirling patterns in the water. He had come down here to be told Eric's reason for the soul collecting, and there was still no indication of what it may be. They had just reminisced about a teacup and flowers, before standing in an awkward silence for a while. It seemed like rather a lousy reason to Alan, if this was the reason. "What are you trying to tell me? That the reason you did what you did was because you can remember a teacup with flowers on it?"

"No' the teacup," Eric replied, voice sobering up a little from the amusement it had held before. "Bu' the memory."

Alan glanced up at that, shocked. He had thought he was the only one who actually cared about their past, and the times they had bonded on a deeper level than just friendship, but clearly he wasn't. Raising an eyebrow, he looked up at Eric, knowing the surprise would be clear on his face, but unable to find the will to hide it any longer.

"I realised, when I learn' yer had the Thorns, tha' I couldn' give up momen's like tha' memory, see?"

Continuing to stare in surprised shock, Alan blinked at Eric, surprise still written across his features. This was much more than he had been expecting, and the feelings had been much deeper in Eric's heart and soul than he had been expecting. He had thought that Eric had just been unwilling to see a friend die and had made a stupid decision. He was well known for his stupid decisions, after all, but it seemed like Eric was about to say something that Alan had always been dreaming of hearing, though he wasn't sure what he would do if Eric did say what he hoped he would. Most likely, he would run out of the room to get his thoughts in order, before seeking out Eric again and continuing on with the conversation, because he was fairly certain that if he didn't he would end up crying or squealing and throwing himself at the other, and he wasn't sure which was worse.

"What do you mean, Eric?" Voice soft, Alan backed away towards the door, hands fumbling for the latch. Yes, this was definitely going somewhere that was going to make him freak out, and he really, really didn't want that to happen in front of the blonde. Silently, he slipped the bolt free behind him, ready to make a dash for it if Eric said anything even bordering on the 'I love you' category.

"I mean, Alan," Eric replied, looking down at the tea he was making and stirring it with a spoon, before pulling out the teabag and lifting the cup up, ready to hand to the brunette. "I would commit any sin to save you. I can't live without you, Alan. You're just… you're…" He appeared to be having trouble with what he was saying. "I love you, Alan."

That did it for Alan. That was the final straw. Looking at Eric with wide, horrified and amazed eyes, he turned the handle of the breakroom door and dashed out, almost colliding with Grell and Miss Irwin on the stairs, their silver and red hair mixing, Grell's pulled into a side-ponytail, Bianca's left lose, the strands swirling together in the breeze he created. Looking back only once, Alan saw a stunned, bewildered and mortified looking Eric staring after him from the break room door, eyes sparkling with what appeared to be enormous grief.

…..

Having spent the whole day in Grell's office – she appeared not to have stayed at work that day – trying to hide from the world, Alan had had plenty of time to work through his thoughts. He had been scared, earlier, because he had never expected his love to be returned, always expecting to have to keep it a secret, even if it was the hardest thing to do in the world.

Furthermore, the idea that such atrocities had been committed in the name of love, and for him no less, it was torture. One thousand innocent people shouldn't have to lose their lives to keep a love alive, especially as it appeared to be going nowhere. But then again, whose fault was it that it was going nowhere? His, of course. Eric had confessed his love and he had just run out of the room like a startled cat that had nowhere else to go. Groaning slightly, Alan considered hitting his head against the table, but decided against it. Instead, he would go and find Eric. They needed to talk, and Alan thought he was up for it, at least for now.

It didn't take long to locate the blonde, who was moping around in his office, overtime having started, Tyler Cooper having left a while ago. Surreptitiously, Alan stepped into the room, hoping not to disturb his love. Standing in the corner, watching as the blonde sighed and moped over his work, Alan felt a stab of guilt and pity for the blonde, and finally he moved closer, causing the other to jump and look up, a look of sadness on his face.

"Alan," he noted, before looking back down at his work.

"Eric," Alan began, sighing and directing anger towards himself when the blonde carried on working, shoulders tense as he didn't bother to look up. "Eric, please."

"Wha'?" Despondently, the other raised their head, eyes catching with Alan's and holding, brows crinkling when they saw the apologetic look in Alan's eyes.

"I'm sorry for running out earlier," Alan whispered, drawing nearer to the desk and resting his hands flat against it, able to feel the cool wood through the leather of his gloves. "You scared me, is all."

"I know," Eric replied, leaning back and sighing, fingers tapping on his knee in an agitated manner. "I shouldn' have told yer tha'. Yer didn' need to know tha' I… care abou' yer so much."

"I like knowing," Alan whispered, straightening back up and coming to stand around the other side of Eric's desk, looking down at the blonde, who still looked dull and depressed. "I've been waiting to know for a while."

"Wha' do yer mean?" Eric asked on an exhale of breath, a tiny bead of hope lighting up in his eyes. Alan smiled slightly, wanting to make that bead so much bigger than it was. He wanted the blonde's eyes to blaze with hope and love and adoration and happiness, and so, simply, he told Eric what he meant.

"I've wanted to know for a while," he repeated, leaning closer to the other, smiling slightly when the blonde didn't back away. "Because I love you too."

"Bu'," He said, looking confused. "Bu' yer've been so angry."

"Eric," Alan whispered, stroking the other's cheek. "I was angry because you kissed me. I thought it meant nothing to you."

Realisation dawned on Eric's face, and the blonde grinned a wide grin, eyes still meeting with Alan's.

"Ah, Alan," Eric reached up, threading his arms around the brunette's waist, "Tha' kiss mean' so much to me. I'd love to do it again."

Smiling a little, Alan raised himself onto tiptoes, pressing his lips against Eric's briefly, smiling when he noticed that Eric had to bend down quite far, too. There really was a massive height difference between the two of them, he noticed. Eric tried to follow Alan's lips down, to connect them further, but Alan covered the other man's with his fingers, feeling his eyes crinkle in the corners with his smile.

" _Alan_ ," Eric groaned, smiling down at the other, lips moving against the black leather of Alan's glove.

"No more kisses, Eric," Alan replied, removing his hand and looking up at the blonde, who had an eyebrow raised in confusion and possibly a bit of annoyance. "We've not even had one date yet. I'm sure that we're taking things in the wrong order, at least a little bit."

"Do we have to be a traditional relationship?" Eric raised an eyebrow, his cocky smile rising to his lips once more and Alan just shook his head in response, exasperation and love running through him in equal measures.

"I'd hardly say that we were a traditional relationship already, Eric," he whispered, leaning his head against the other's chest and listening to his heart, comforted by the steady sound. "But I really would like to go out to dinner with you, or something like that. We haven't ever really done that before, and I heard that it's a popular activity for couples."

"Tha' it is," Eric agreed, pushing Alan away slightly and grabbing his hand instead, leading the both of them out of the office and down the corridors, forgetting about his overtime. "So… when we're both free of an evening, we'll go and eat?"

"That sounds like a plan," Alan agreed, resting his head against Eric's arm and allowing himself to be lead back to the blonde's house, a small smile on his face as he realised that forgiving Eric hadn't really been so hard at all.

 **Author's Note: So… I hope you liked that and it wasn't too rushed, but I realised that some of the chapters in my plan are pointless and filled with nothing, so I decided to condense them into one chapter… which means that the story won't be as long as I originally planned, which is good news… well, actually it will, as the chapters are longer, but there will be less of them… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and continue to read, because this couple is just too cute to miss! XD!**


	5. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: So it's two o'clock in the morning and I've been entertaining guests all day, so I doubt this is much good, especially bearing in mind that I've only been on two dates before, and the dates happened like, three weeks into us going out, so they didn't really count… anyway. Sorry that it sucks, basically.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only this plotline and the OCs.

One Thousand Souls Chapter Four

Eric sighed, leaning against the wall outside the restaurant, a little terrified to re-enter the place. Five minutes beforehand, he had been standing inside the restaurant, a slimy looking waiter named Urien sneering at him. It had looked like a sneer, at least. Perhaps the ugly man had merely been smiling at him, but if that was the case, Eric was a little worried about how much pain the man was in. It seemed as if he had some kind of serious stomach-ache or something of the sort. Whatever the case, Eric knew he hadn't trusted the man.

Sighing again, Eric checked his watch, fighting the urge to rub his eyes. It had been a very busy Monday, he and Alan having agreed to meet that evening to have a meal together, unable to have spoken at the weekend, for Eric had been busy with Jose, Nova and Kai, and Alan had been busy with Lizbeth, Evelyn, Braylen and Roger. Grell hadn't been into work, skipping out on it like she had the Friday before, and both of them had had to pick up her slack. Somehow, considering how tired he was, Eric could understand Alan's anger that he had left so much work for a short department to do, knowing that the load would have been lighter even than then, should Grell have slacked off, which she rather liked to do.

Looking up, he searched the street again, seeing his breath puff out in the air before him, the glow from the lamp lighting it up for all to see, the fog swirling away from his lips like a dragon's breath. Confused, Eric furrowed his brows, wondering just where the little brunette was. It was time for the brunette to arrive, and he hadn't shown yet. Drawing his jacket a little closer around himself, though hardly enough to actually warm him, Eric scanned the street one last time, before stepping inside.

Once again the slimy looking waiter came over, smiling the pained smile that seemed to be permanently attached to his lips. Eric gave a half smile back, knowing it looked forced, but finding himself unable to care. The man really was a nasty piece of work, and he rather hoped that his and Alan's waiter wouldn't be such an ugly soul. Nodding slightly, Eric shifted as the man drew closer, blue eyes flashing in the candlelit room.

"Good evenin', sir," he said, voice slightly slurred and very grating on Eric's ears. "Would you like a table?"

"No' righ' now," Eric replied, glancing at his watch again. Alan was two minutes late. Where was he? The brunette was known for being punctual. "I'm waitin' fer someone."

"Well, could you do your waitin' outside?" The white-blonde ponytail the man had gleamed in the candle-light, and Eric fought the childish urge to tug on it. To be perfectly honest, he wanted to be very childish around the man and torment him in a number of ways. He had a feeling that the blonde was going to cause nothing but trouble. "There are customers in here."

"It's cold outside," Clearly, Eric was not going to move. "An' yer hardly care abou' the customers."

The white-blonde haired man rolled his eyes, sighing loudly, before folding his arms, drawing himself up to his full height of five foot ten. Raising an eyebrow, Eric wondered if it was supposed to impress him, before realising that while he was leaning against the wall, he hardly looked taller himself. Not bothering to move for the moment, he just stared at the other man, daring him to do something about his stubbornness.

"While tha's true, mate, I don't wanna lose me job, so if you could just do us a favour and step outside."

"Oh, shut up, would yer?" Eric moaned, pushing himself up to his full height and folding his arms, careful to check his watch again, eyeing the door while he spoke. Alan was four minutes late now. Where was he? "Yer voice is annoyin' and I'm pretty sure I could beat yer in a figh', so let's no' test it, alrigh'?"

"Talk about annoyin'," the blonde growled slightly, glancing around the restaurant in fear of being spotted by his boss, most likely. "Your Scottish voice is driving me insane. Can't you go back where you belong?"

"Oh, leave him alone, Urien," a slurred, high-pitched voice broke in, along with a gust of cool air as the door was pushed open, a stumbling blonde entering the restaurant, along with the appealing smell of too much alcohol. _Great_ , Eric thought, _another slime enters the party_. Then again, he supposed, he had been in prison once, and the two before him were probably less of a sinner put together than he had been. Shifting again, he leaned once more against the wall. "A great Scottish guy like him should be respected."

The blonde finished her speech with a hiccup and a stumbling clap, missing her hands and tripping a little, before she tottered over to him and latched onto his arm. Eric wondered if this was what it was like to have a child, because she seemed more than drunk, certainly more so than he and Ronald had ever got, but then again, it was much harder to get a Shinigami drunk than it was to get a human drunk. The most he and Ronald had got was tipsy.

"Could yer ge' off me?" Eric asked, shaking his arm a little, only to find that the girl was stuck there like superglue. Frowning, Eric maneuvered his sleeve in such a way that he could see his watch. Alan was ten minutes late. It seriously wasn't like the brunette to be so disorganised and unpunctual. Not understanding the reason that Alan was late, save for the fact that maybe the brunette had had second thoughts and decided that he didn't really want to be in a relationship at all, Eric felt his heart clench. "I'd like the use of my arm, if yer don' mind."

Pouting up at him, the blonde shook her head, blonde ringlets falling in a lank curtain around her head, her green eyes wide and sad. Creamy skin was smeared with dirt, and her black dress was torn here and there. She really looked like she had been through the wars, but Eric felt no sympathy. She probably hadn't felt anything near as bad as he had when he knew that his love was dying slowly and painfully before him, and him not being able to deal with it. His had been the kind of grief that would slowly crush you out until there was nothing left of you, hers looked to be the sudden and blinding grief that messed up your life in such a way that you could only get yourself back on track if you cared. Clearly, this girl didn't care. Gaunt and ragged, she looked close to death, and Eric almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Until she started trying to flirt, that was.

"Such a big guy like you," she hiccupped and wrinkled her nose, sniffing as if she smelt something bad. Eric didn't really feel like it was a great wonder, considering she reeked like she hadn't had a bath for a week. "I feel like I could lean on you all night, if you know what I mean…"

Giggling, she twirled a lock of hair around her finger, but Eric just raised an eyebrow, confused. Was that flirting? It was awful, slurred and nonsense, but she appeared to think it would work.

"What do you think, Ross?" She turned to the waiter, who Eric now knew was called Urien Ross, and raised her eyebrows twice, sloppily, though Eric was rather astounded to find that she had enough coherence to carry out such a task. "Wouldn't a big, strong, Scottish man be just perfect for me?"

Tripping over her own feet, she fell further into Eric, him having to catch her, and he couldn't help but wonder how old she was. She didn't look any more than sixteen, which meant that she shouldn't be anywhere near alcohol. Who had given it to her, and who had kept giving it to her, because by the look on Urien's face, it seemed as if her stumbling in and making a bumbling fool out of herself was a rather common occurrence. Looking down at his watch, arms still wrapped around the stumbling girl, Eric noticed that Alan was now fifteen minutes late. How much longer was he willing to wait for the brunette? He didn't know, but he was aware that it would be a fair while, whether forced to be in the company of bumbling idiots such as the two before him or not.

A gush of cold air rushed into the room, making Eric turn and freeze, the person who's eyes he met doing the same thing. It rather seemed as if he wouldn't have to wait any longer, but the look of horror on the brunette's face was rather obvious for all to see. Wincing, Eric turned to Urien and asked for a table for two, the blonde smiling in a much more convincing, though malicious way, and taking them further into the restaurant, Eric finally able to pass off the stumbling blonde when they sat down, her clinging to the waiter instead.

….

Alan glared at Eric with cold eyes, making the blonde man wince. What had he done this time? Opening his mouth, he was interrupted when Alan told him to 'save it'.

"Wha' have I done?" He asked anyway, ignoring the extremely displeased expression the other presented him with, instead folding his arms and glaring at the menu, despite them having ordered already. "I cannae think of a single thing tha' I have done now."

"How can you say that, Eric, when I walked in to find you with a woman in your arms?"

Eric winced, looking back over to the door, where their waiter appeared to be having a difficult time shooing the drunk lady out of the room.

"I dinnae wan' her in my arms," he assured Alan, ignoring the raised eyebrow he got. "She has had far too much to drink, an' she stumbled. I caught her."

Alan relaxed, sighing, before looking down a little sheepishly. "I know that, Eric." Quietly, he spoke, gloved fingers dancing on the table between them. "I was just trying to throw attention off of myself. I was late, and I shouldn't have been, so I apologise."

Relaxing himself, Eric watched Alan, feeling sad that the brunette felt as if Eric would ever hold anything against him. Alan had so much more of a reason to hold things against him, and he had forgiven him, so why would Eric hold such a tiny think like a slightly disrupted date against him. Sometimes, the brunette's logic made no sense. Alan continued speaking when Eric made no noise, and he realised that he had succeeded in panicking the smaller man further.

"I really am sorry," Their eyes caught and held across the table, the brunette's brows furrowed in worry. "I didn't mean to, but I just got home and fell asleep. I'm so tired."

"I can' understand tha'," Eric began, only to be cut off by Alan once more.

"Grell is gone now, and I thought that things would get better, but they've only got worse, seeing as you can't do those ridiculous sheets, and neither can Tyler. I thought he understood it, but it seems as if I was wrong…"

Trailing off when Eric's words registered, Alan's eyes widened, and he smiled up at the blonde uncertainly. His smile widened when Eric grinned, his whole posture relaxing to a more comfortable one for a date. Eric, however, was concerned.

"If yer tired," he began, thanking the waiter when he brought over their drinks, whiskey for Eric and red wine for Alan. This waiter was a preferable one. He didn't look like he hung around in dark alleys in his spare time, ambushing unsuspecting passers-by. "We can go back to my place. I don' wan' you fallin' asleep a' the table."

"I'm fine," shaking his head, Alan sipped at his wine, before smiling once more at Eric. "Though thank you for the consideration… It feels strange to be on a date. I've not been on one before."

Eric looked at Alan in surprise. Never? He had never been on a date before? Well, that was a surprise. Smiling, Eric shook his head, noticing their food arriving at their table.

"I've been on plenty of dates," Eric informed him, quickly tucking into his food, pretending he didn't notice Alan's tense shoulders when he mentioned that. "But none tha' I've enjoyed as much as this, and we've barely been here for ten minutes. It mus' be the company."

Alan smiled again at this, shaking his head a little and digging into his own food, lips stretching wider when he tasted how good it was. Eyes sparkling, he looked up at Eric and smiled, warmth in his expression, and the two of them started talking, unable to stop, all manner of subjects going through their conversation as the night ran on.

…..

Later, the two made their way home, back in the Shinigami realm, Alan feeling tingles shooting up his arm where his hand was linked with Eric's. They had spent the night talking away, and now he was tired, prepared to go to bed, but his house was so far away compared to Eric's. Yawning, slightly, he looked up as Eric ascended the steps to his porch, before feeling surprise jolt though him when the blonde beckoned him forwards.

Surprise written across his expression, Alan walked up the steps and watched the blonde, eyes wide as he was pulled into a hug.

"I love yer," Eric whispered, before leaning down to peck him on the lips, the two of them feeling their hearts beat faster and electricity jolt through their veins. "I ha' a nice nigh'."

"I did too," Alan informed him, eyes flickering across the blonde's lips again, wanting to feel them once more. Eyes shining in the moonlight, he looked up at the blonde, smiling beautifully. "And I love you, Eric."

Smiling, they both leaned in once more, their kiss turning to a romantic duet, lips moving against lips, breaths mingling. Hidden half in shadow, half in the light of the moon, the two of them kissed, until they had to stop, because they could literally not stay on their feet any longer. Then, the two of them parted and stumbled into the house, ready to drop down to sleep for a long, long time, before heading off to work the next morning, needing all the rest they could get, seeing as Grell appeared to be inclined to stay vanished forever. The last thing Alan wished for, though, before they drifted off, was for some more beautiful, romantic moments between them. Before long, however, he had drifted off to sleep in Eric's arms, the blonde peacefully sleeping next to him, a smile on his face.

 **Author's Note: I'm sorry this ending is rubbish. I'm a little distracted by this mystery surprise my parents are threatening me with tomorrow, and the fact that I really want a cup of tea, but can't be bothered to get out of bed and make it. Anyway, please review, and read again, because it won't be quite this useless or short next time. I promise… I hope!**


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I was busy with Kitty (my friend) on Friday, and then my short friend and my blonde friend came over on Saturday to spend time with Kitty and me. Then on Sunday… I was at a Steampunk fair, with two total strangers taking my picture, which is really embarrassing! Also, I was watching the tea dulling. Then Monday was my Birthday, so I was busy again, and I fell asleep yesterday, so I'm finally getting around to writing just now. Hope you enjoy!**

 **I am aware, of course, that 'bairn' means child or baby, though it appears to more commonly mean child. However, I wrote what I wrote, and can't be bothered to change it. Sorry. Too tired.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, Yana Toboso does that. More's the pity! Grelliam can only exist in my head, now… Though I'm fairly certain Alan and Eric were always designed to be a couple.

One Thousand Souls Chapter Five

"You ask him."

"No, _you_ ask him!"

"No, you ask him!"

"Stop being so _silly_ ," broke in another voice entirely, little hands still clutching onto the pram as he tried to separate the squabbling children beside him, "I'll ask him."

Shifting control of the pram to the boy next to him, the second boy stepped out onto the crowded beach, heading towards the brunette that was sitting on a rock, watching as another man paddled. That man, however, was the scary one, and the reason that none of the children wanted to ask the nice man to help them. Beatrice Rayburn fiddled with the white material of her frock and shoved her messy blonde hair out of her face as she watched the movements of her friend, William.

Will, as he preferred to be called, had made it halfway to the brunette man, but by then, the babies started crying, their little limbs wriggling about. Tris tried to shush them as they wriggled, but between the three of them, they were doing a fine job of making a loud noise. It was a wonder that the entirety of the beach hadn't found them yet. Then again, they were hiding in a copse of trees, and other mothers with children were about. Tris, though, had no idea where her mother was. Or where William's was.

Rufina and Gabriel, in her pram, were still kicking, managing to rock the pram enough that it bumped into Theophilus' with the dull brush of leather, causing the second pram's inhabitant to burst into tears, Evangeline within it crying for attention that wasn't going to come. Not if they couldn't find their mothers'. They had been told not to wander off, of course, but there had been so many people on the beach, and so much noise and so many smells of wonderful foods that the children just couldn't help it, and they had been pushing the babies for fun at the time. Tris wasn't really sure how it happened, but it had. And now, they needed help finding their mothers.

…..

Alan looked up when he heard another disgruntled yell come from Eric, and turned to look at the man, smiling at him. It was the first time they had both got together since the dinner in the café, and it had been a week since then. Grell still hadn't shown up at work, and they were both rather tired, having been taking on all the slack from the redhead. Before coming out that day, they had both slept in until midday, only arising due to the sun shining warm on Alan's face and making him stir. He had slipped out of bed, them having taken to living together in the short time between making up and that day, and made Eric coffee, before starting when Eric announced that it was the perfect day for going to the beach.

He had been right, of course. Hundreds of people bustled about here and there, skirts of bright colours mixing with suits of equally bright colours, pastels and sun-hats fighting off the worst of the afternoon heat. It was winter in the Reaper Realm, but in the human Realm, summer was in its height. Sometimes, Alan wished that the two Realms ran on the same clock, because it was utterly exhausting having to drag himself out of the warm bed with Eric, into the cold world, only to find that it was still dark, and in any normal person's head, it was _still time for sleeping_. Then again, the fact that he could escape the winter by leaving the Realm was rather brilliant too.

Another cry from Eric caught Alan's attention, and he turned his head, only to find that, despite being rolled up, the bottom of Eric's trousers were hanging in the water. Laughing, the brunette shook his head, before calling out to the blonde and extending his hand. The blonde took it, laughing himself, and pulled himself onto the rock next to Alan, rolling down his trousers as he sighed, shaking his head. Opening his mouth, ready to tell Eric that if he didn't like getting wet then he should stay out of the sea, he found himself interrupted by a young voice, and one that was trembling slightly.

"Excuse me, sir," the voice said, causing both Eric and Alan to look around, their eyes finally landing on a small boy of no more than eight, messy brown-black hair buffeted by the wind and big brown eyes fixed on them. He _was_ talking to them, then. Alan hadn't been sure at first. "But could you help me?"

Having just heard a child ask for help, both Reapers stopped what they were doing. Neither of them would ever let a child go into a situation that worried them or put them in danger alone, and without even consulting each other, they hopped down off the rock and bent down to be closer to the boy.

"What is it that's wrong, hmm?" Alan asked, eyes searching the boy's. Shyly, the boy glanced behind Alan at the more imposing figure of Eric and shook his head, before leaning closer to Alan and whispering that he needed help. Quickly realising what was wrong, Alan lifted the boy up, allowing the child to swing his legs around his hips, though he wasn't much bigger than the boy himself.

Without wasting any time, Alan turned the boy to face Eric, introducing them quickly.

"This is Eric," Alan told him, glancing around while he spoke to see what could possibly be the matter. It struck him, then. Where was this boy's mother? Without panicking, Alan carried on, determined not to upset the young boy he was holding. "And I'm Alan. Do you think you could let Eric help?"

Nodding, still clinging onto Alan, he informed the two of them that he was a big boy, and the bravest, because _he_ had come up to talk to them, and _he_ was talking to the 'scary man', which the two soon realised meant Eric. Well, Alan supposed, Eric was a large man, after all.

"Tha' yer are, kid," the blonde agreed, ruffling the boy's hair with one of his large hands, before reaching out his arms, ready to take the boy from the smaller man. "An' who migh' you be?"

"William," the boy was deadly serious, setting his feet on the ground and allowing himself to be lifted by Eric once Alan had put him down. "But Tris calls me Will."

"Well then, Will," Alan began, looking around the beach again. "Can you tell us where your mummy is? I'm sure she's very worried."

"We don't know," was the reply, the little boy struggling to be put down again. Obliging him, Eric set him on his feet, and the brunette started pulling insistently at both of their clothes, tugging at them with all of his might. "But mummy said not to wander off, and now me, Tris, Theo, Gabe, Fina and Ange are _all_ lost."

"How many of yer are there?" Eric asked, walking along with the little boy, Alan doing the same beside him. "How di' yer ge' so los'?"

"Mummy said not to wander off," Will replied, heading towards a small copse of trees, "But me, Theo and Tris saw a game and we wanted to play it."

Will paused for a little while, frowning, still heading for the trees. Alan was fairly sure he could see two blonde heads poking out of it, though he had no idea where the other three were.

"They wouldn't let us play, they said that the babies would get in the way."

"Babies?" Alan asked, jumping in before Eric could say anything. The man was Scottish, and would say 'bairns', which would only serve to confuse the little boy. "Do you have babies with you?"

"Mm hmm," Will nodded vigorously, hair bouncing off of his forehead with the force of his head shakes. They had finally reached the copse of trees, and the two of them could hear the wails of babies. Alan felt his heart skip a beat. There were three of them, and they were making heart breaking wailing sounds. Next to him, he felt Eric tense, too. "Me and Theo and Tris are big now, so we can look after ourselves, but we don't know what to do with babies."

Two blonde children had swarmed around Alan and Eric by that time, and they were making chattering, unhappy noises. The boy, Theo, appeared to be six, and was sniffling a little, hugging Alan's knee and preventing him from walking. He was muttering something about how the babies wouldn't stop crying into Alan's trousers. In front of Eric, looking very timid and shy, the girl who could only be Tris was wringing her dress through her hands, looking down and away, a flush rising to her face under Eric's stare.

"We didn't mean to go away," she was saying, stopping to push her hair out of her face and glance up at Eric. "Please don't be angry."

"Hey, hey, hey," Assurance in his voice, Eric bent down and Alan watched him. He ruffled the girl's hair and studied her face, before reaching out and laying his hand on her shoulder, steading her so that she would pay attention to him. "I'm no' gonnae be angry. I jus' wan' to know where yer pu' the bairns."

"Bairns?" As Alan had predicted, Tris didn't know what Eric was trying to say. "Don't animals go in them?"

"Ah," Looking as if he were going to hit himself upside the head with his stupidity, clearly realising that he was talking to a child, Eric just sighed and stood up, looking around. "I mean' babbies. Yer're very righ', though. Animals go in 'bairns'."

Chuckling just a little, Alan shook his head, before reaching down to extricate Theo from his leg, bending down to eye-level with the boy. The little thing was short, with wide, watery brown eyes and messy hair, and he appeared to be very confused and upset. Certainly, he wanted his mother.

"Theo, dear," Calmingly, Alan stroked his hand through Theo's hair, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, wiping away the snot and tears that were streaking the little boy's face. "Where are Gabe, Ange and Fina? Can you help me? You would be such a big boy."

Lighting up like a matchstick after being struck, Theo nodded, clearly overjoyed at being asked to be a 'big boy' for someone. Taking Alan's hand, he led both the blonde and the brown haired man further into the copse of trees, two prams quickly being stumbled upon, with three wiggling babies in them, crying themselves hoarse. Without even thinking about it, Alan went and scooped up one of the babies, holding the little thing and bouncing it, shushing it as quickly as he could, as caringly as he could. Once the baby had stopped crying, its little fists wrapped around his finger instead, he turned to seek out Eric and ask what they would do next, only to be struck by what he saw.

He was sitting on a log, lying across the grass, with the worried children seated around him, Tris holding a baby with thick, dark hair. That had been in the same pram as the baby he was holding, though his had only a few wisps of hair, thin and fluffy. In Eric's arms, however, was the other baby, that one also with wisps of dark hair. It had stopped wriggling, writhing and crying, and was instead seeing how far it could stuff Eric's glasses into its mouth, Eric cooing at it and tickling its chin.

Struck by the sight, Alan could only watch. Eric would make such a good father, and a great amount of regret washed over him. He would never be able to give Eric a baby, he realised, and while they could always adopt children, the blonde would never be able to bond with that child from birth, would never be able to hold that child on one of his arms and rock it to sleep at night. Eric would never be able to name his child or have it grow up looking like a cross between the two of them. Guilt washed over the brunette. He felt like he had snatched that possibility away from Eric simply by existing. The two of them were in love, he was certain, but Eric could have had a family with any of the pretty women he had liked to spend time with before Alan came along. Sometimes, Alan felt truly like a thief when it came to his and Eric's relationship.

"Alan?" Eric's voice snapped him out of his daze, and he looked up with a short gasp, smelling the heated leather of Eric's gloves as he reached over and took the baby from him, before placing it back down in the pram it had come from. "Alan, are yer alrigh'?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Alan replied, allowing Eric to take the child. He was very good with babies, it seemed, after all. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise," Eric told him, before turning and rounding the playing children up. Clearly they were feeling better, now that they were being looked after. Facing the big wide world when you were only little was a humongous and terrifying thing, after all. "Jus' keep yer head in the game for now."

"I know," Alan affirmed, latching onto Eric's hand and squeezing it, not daring to do more in front of the children. They were still citizens under Queen Victoria's reign, and two men being in love was still illegal for humans. They may be young, but there was no telling what ideas they may get or what they may see that could get them into a lot of trouble when they were older. "And, like I said, I'm sorry. I really am, Eric."

"I think yer takin' this a little too seriously, Alan." Eric told him, squeezing the brunette's hand back, a crooked smile fixed upon his face. "I'm no' angry a' yer. Are yer okay?"

Nodding, Alan smiled a little smile at the taller man, knowing that he didn't know why Alan was apologising. Despite the lack of communication and understanding, the small man felt better for getting off of his chest, so he quickly turned to the children and asked them if they had a good idea of what their mother looked like. They would need it to find her, after all.

….

Finally, an hour after the search was started, Eric caught sight of a woman who matched the description that Will had given him. He had claimed that is mother was tall, with long, curly brown hair, wide, orange-brown eyes and soft features. She had also been wearing a pale blue dress with long, white lace sleeves that day, and a pretty straw hat with a pale blue ribbon tied around it and falling down her back. Next to her was standing a perfect description of the father, and they both wore a perfectly panicked expression.

Struggling through the throng towards the two, Eric called out to them, just as they were about to turn away, despair flittering across their face. Turning, they met his eyes, before seeing the children following him and Alan through the streets, and raising their worried eyes to his. He extended the pram towards her in a gesture of peace, showing that he wasn't kidnapping the children, and the mother relaxed slightly, pulling Will towards her and pressing kisses to their faces, telling them not to ever wander off again, because she had been _so_ worried. _So,_ so worried. The father, next to her, was picking up the twins, handing one to her and keeping the other himself. Quickly, he murmured something to his wife and then turned to go inside the shop that they had been standing outside of, clearly going in search of the other mother and father.

"Thank you," a voice caught Eric's attention as he stood in the shade next to Alan, Tris, Ange and Theo still with him. "If you hadn't found William, Rufina and Gabriel, neither me nor Lucian would have known what to do. They mean so much to us-"

Breaking off at the sound of the door opening, the brown haired woman ran over to another brown haired woman, though her hair was shorter, and her eyes were hazel, dressed all in black. She must have been very hot in such attire.

"Look, Jessamine," whispered the woman, bursting with excitement. "These two lovely gentlemen have brought our babies back to us."

"Indeed," Jessamine agreed, stepping back into the shade and watching the scene, clearly not caring that Eric's eyes were on here. "I could hear Jasper's shout of joy from miles away, if I so wished."

That was true, Eric thought. Jasper must have been the tall, blonde one that was the father to the other set of children, as he was the only one that had cried out so loudly, his blonde wife with the brown streaks in her hair clutching her children to her and whispering to them softly, stroking their hair and pressing their faces into her pale blue bodice, the white lace flowers on it rough against their cheeks. Smiling softly, Eric turned to go, only to be stopped by Alan's hand on his arm. The brunette was still talking with the first brunette woman.

"May I know your names, sirs?" She was asking, rocking her baby in her arms, shushing the girl as she wiggled about. "I would very much like to hear the names of our saviours, after all."

"Of course," Alan replied, smiling at them, Eric watching the woman with friendly eyes. She appeared to believe that he and Alan blamed her for the loss of her children, but it really wasn't that difficult. There was a sea of people out there, and they had been hiding in a copse of trees. The worry and desperation to find their children that the parents of both families had shown more than made up for their loss of them. And the relief that Eric saw in their eyes for their returned children was heart-warming, to say the least. "My name is Alan Humphries, and this is Eric Slingby."

"Aye," Eric agreed, leaning down to tickle the baby on the tummy, before straightening back up again. "Yer have a beautiful babby."

"Thank you," the brunette replied, rocking the wriggling girl a little. "I knew something like this was going to happen today. Nothing bad has happened for a while see. I know-" she held up one hand, ready to pause whatever it was that she thought they were going to say. "I'm an awful mother, and I probably shouldn't be left to look after these, but for what it's worth, I thank you."

"It was nothing," Alan said, his clear voice making Eric smile. Alan's voice always made him smile, and he never wondered why. It was Alan, after all. "Honestly."

"Well, then," came a new voice, a blonde woman stepping forward, pale green eyes shining with joy under her glasses, pale skin dotted with freckles here and there. "Allow us to buy you tea, at least."

"Tha'," Eric decided, smiling down at Alan as he nodded, "Would be a pleasure."

With that, they followed the woman dressed in black, the blonde in blue, the brunette in blue and the blonde in white, along with the children and men, ready to enjoy the rest of their day.

…

Later that night, Eric and Alan were lying in bed, side by side, Alan's head making a ruffling noise against the shirt on Eric's chest. Eric was thinking about the day, them having enjoyed it to the utmost after the little fiasco with the children, and he had suddenly remembered Alan's apology. The brunette had appeared to be apologising for something much worse than he had actually done, and now Eric was going to ask him way.

"Alan?" Eric asked into the darkness, the light of the moon shining through a crack in the curtains and shining on the brunette's face, turning him silver, shimmering with an ethereal beauty.

"Hmm?" Feeling the vibrations of the brunette as he hummed his question, and smelling his hair, the scent coming off of it intoxicating and beautiful, Eric shifted a little, running his fingers through the strands at the nape of Alan's neck.

"What did you mean?" Blinking and sitting up, Alan wrinkled his eyebrows at him, confused. Sighing, Eric sat up too, leaning against the headboard, and pulled Alan into his arms again, allowing them to settle into a comfortable position while he clarified what he meant. "What did you mean by your apology, earlier today?"

"I was apologising because I felt guilty," Alan informed him, running his hand up Eric's chest and breathing lightly, clearly scared to make a sound in the otherwise silent room. Eric raised an eyebrow. Alan had felt guilty for what, exactly? "Oh, don't pull that face, Slingby," Alan said, slapping him lightly on the chest. "I felt guilty because I was watching you with the children, and I realised that I won't ever be able to give you that. And I'm sorry for that. I've stolen any chance that you would ever have of your own child, and I know that you must realise it too. You're so good with children."

This was what Alan was worried about? Children? Sure, Eric supposed, it would have been nice to have children, but were they an absolute necessity? Could he live his entire life with Alan and have no biological children of his own? Yes, yes he could. He loved the brunette, and didn't mind if they adopted, or never even considered any children at all. Any life in which he had the brunette in it was a brilliant one. Shaking his head, Eric sighed, and wondered just how he would explain it to his sensitive love.

"I've never really considered bairns before, Alan," Eric informed him, linking their fingers together and kissing the brunette on the cheek, feeling the other's lashes brush his cheek as he looked down. "Bu' I think tha' I don' really need them if I'm with you. Yer everything I've ever wanted, and more, and I don' wan' to give yer up, no' fer something tha' I couldn' have with you, so shouldn' dream abou'."

"But that's just the thing," Alan whispered, burying his head into Eric's chest, his skin warm against Eric's. "You should be allowed to dream such things, Eric, but with me you can't. What is it you could possibly care for so much about me that you would give up any chance of a family in the future?"

"I've never really wanted a family," Eric pointed out, fingers lifting Alan's chin so the brunette had to look at him. Their eyes connected in the moonlight, even though they couldn't see particularly well. "I jus' wan' you, no one else." Insisting upon it, Eric brought their lips closer, brushing them together as he spoke his last words. "Anyone else would jus' ge' in the way."

With that, he closed the distance between their lips, drawing the brunette into a hungry kiss. Their kisses had been getting hungrier throughout the week during the night, but they had never gone further than removing shirts before. It didn't take long before Alan had worked Eric's shirt off, his own drawn off of his arms when Eric undid it, trailing kisses down the brunette's neck while he worked.

"I love you," Eric whispered into Alan's ear, feeling the heat of the other's blush, and pulling back to be graced with the sight of it. "I don' wan' anything to ge' in between the two of us."

Alan nodded, connecting their lips again, hands trailing down Eric's chest, clutching at the other and trying to pull himself closer. Eric chuckled, understanding how the brunette felt, and nuzzled into the other's neck, pressing his lips there and loving the tea and ink scent that clung to Alan like coffee and some alcohol scents clung to him, even when he wasn't drinking. Eric had absolutely no idea why this was the case.

Sliding his hands down Alan's chest, his lips following, Eric soon found his hands at the button to Alan's trousers, looking up as the other tensed. Smiling a crooked smile, Eric just moved his hands up Alan's body again, linking their lips with practised ease and tasting Alan on his tongue. It was beautiful, with the moon shining down on them, and Eric couldn't help but be reminded of their first proper kiss out on the porch that Monday night.

"You can," Alan whispered, lips pulling away from Eric's and brushing over his ear instead, causing goose bumps to rise on Eric's skin.

"I can wha'?"

"You can-" Alan broke off, flushing, instead grabbing Eric's hands and leading them down to the button on his trousers, hands running back up Eric's arms and into the blonde's hair, before pulling the blonde down for a kiss. "You understand?"

"Are you sure?" Kissing Alan's cheek, before leaning back up, Eric studied the brunette carefully for a second, nodding slightly when he saw something that he liked. Clearly, he understood that Alan was not lying when he had given Eric permission to go further than before.

"I am." Alan promised, hands still moving on the blonde, though it seemed rather as something to do, now, rather than an actual conscious act. "I just… I haven't… done this with anyone. Not in this life, at least. So… I'm just… Well…"

Watching the blush rise to Alan's cheeks, Eric smiled his usual, crooked smile and leaned down, connecting their lips in a kiss, before leaning back up.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, "Do you feel less guilty now?"

"I felt guilty about being unable to give you children," Alan informed Eric, fingers still running through the other's hair. "I didn't feel guilty about stealing your heart."

"I love you," Promising that with every fibre of his being, Eric smiled down at Alan once more. "And I always will."

"Good, because I love you just the same, Eric."

With that, Eric connected their mouths in a kiss once more, before deftly undoing the button on Alan's trousers and allowing their romantic and beautiful night to commence, no matter that they would miss out on sleep for it. It would be Sunday when they woke up, anyway, so it was hardly likely that they would need to wake up at any particularly early time in the morning. In fact, it was likely that they would only go out for a stroll in the park later. That left them plenty of time to worship each other's bodies and souls during the moonlit night.

 **Author's Note: Obviously, Alan** _ **is**_ **able to get pregnant, otherwise this wouldn't be labelled an MPreg story, but** _ **he**_ **doesn't know that yet. Anyway, hoped you enjoyed, whether it was awful or not. Please review! It's sad to see so many other stories with reviews, but mine with around two…** **Well, anyway, hope you enjoyed and you read again soon!**


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, Yana Toboso does.**

One Thousand Souls Chapter Six

Yawning and rolling over, Alan nuzzled at the large warmth lying next to him, smiling softly as said warmth moved his arm up to ruffle the brunette's hair, before rolling over and telling him to go back to sleep. He didn't care what time it was, apparently, for it was still a Saturday, and Grell hadn't been in all week, so he was going to sleep all day. Laughing quietly, Alan just nodded, huddling closer to the large blonde's back and wriggling around to try and break the blonde's grip as he pulled Alan over himself in an attempt to hold the brunette in his arms once more. Sighing, Alan just shook his head and snuggled in, closing his eyes and falling back asleep with ease.

Three hours later and the two were up and about, and out of the house. They had decided to go back to the sunny mortal Realm, seeing as there was nothing beautiful about their Realm that particular morning. The sky was grey, with icy gusts of wind blowing through it, and water drizzled down from the sky, a little more polite than a heavy downpour, but hardly something that Eric and Alan wished to withstand for any large amount of time. Besides, the park in their Realm was surrounded by the Academy Student Flats, the most blocky, boring buildings ever invented. Both of them could remember their student flats, and neither of them liked them.

Eric's had been plain and white, a small, hard white sofa pressed against a kitchen island, a boring brown coffee table sitting on the hard, slippery wooden floor. Three mismatched chairs also fit into the room, along with two out of place lamps and a plain white curtain, falling limply across his enormous window. The window would have seemed nice, Alan supposed, save for the fact that it was criss-crossed by thick black lines, each of them marring the mediocre view of the park and other boring student inhabitations enough that everything became twisted and warped. Alan was fairly sure this was the reason that Eric owned a house with many clear, beautiful windows, as it made the house feel much more open and a lot friendlier. Certainly, it was much less like a prison.

Alan himself had had an even smaller flat than Eric, the bedroom part of the kitchen and living room, whereas Eric had had a separated bedroom. Every piece of furniture there was red, too, and Alan was fairly certain that Grell had lived there before, going by the amount of spare cosmetics he had found hidden under a dresser, though it seemed that they had been just for experimentation. An ugly red chair had sat moping in the corner, a golden cushion situated on top, which rather added to the gaudy affect. The walls were beige, the carpet matching, and his bed was low and backed into a cupboard, which he had filled with books. There had been a miniscule white lamp behind his head on the shelves, and a circular table surrounded by three red chairs had taken centre stage in his room. Quite frankly, he hated it, and loved living with Eric because the other man had such a large place, probably because he had been working for quite some time more than Alan and had the money to move into his own accommodation, rather than the simple flats that were set up for Reapers after they graduated.

Despite having a lovely house, though, the two of them liked to go out and about, which was the sole reason they were walking through the Mortal Realm, heading towards a park that was bathed in golden sunlight. Birds twittered in the trees, and many flowers bloomed, catching Alan's attention as he tried very hard to restrain himself from telling Eric the meaning of his favourites. Besides, remembering the mug that had helped them bond, Eric could most likely tell him what all the flowers meant anyway.

"Yer know?" Eric asked, shifting the large picnic basket he was holding from one hand to the other and smiling down at the small brunette beside him. "Yer can tell me wha' the flowers mean if yer wan'. Jus' because I already know doesn' mean I don' wannae hear."

"How did you-?" Alan asked, a little confused. Blinking his round eyes up at Eric, he smiled a little, noticing the curl that the other man's lips bore.

"Yer've go' tha' smile on." Eric replied, ruffling Alan's hair, while the brunette tried to shift away, not liking the feeling of the untidy brown strands on his head. "The one tha' yer always have when yer see the flowers."

A little confused, Alan raised an eyebrow at Eric, a small smile still worn upon his lips. "There's a smile?"

"Of course there is." Eric assured him, holding open the gate to the park for the smaller one and stepping back to allow him access, "Yer can' miss it."

"I'm sure I could," Alan replied, stepping into the park and glancing around, not wanting any humans to notice him and Eric in any compromising positions. Nothing could happen to them should the humans find them to be together, but it could put a downer on their good day, seeing as they were trying to spend time in the sun. To escape the humans they would have to return to the Realm and the rain, and neither of them particularly wanted that. Noting that no humans were around, Alan leaned up and pecked Eric on the lips, making the other blink in surprise, before grabbing his hand and pulling him along, out of the field and into the trees. "I did miss a very obvious thing, didn't I?"

"If you mean my love fer yer," Eric said, joy in his voice as he trailed after the other, hands still interlocked. "Then I missed yers fer me, so I wouldn' say tha' you were too oblivious."

"If anything, Eric," Alan pointed out, reaching a low hanging branch of a tree that stood no more than two feet off the ground and sitting on it. "You are far more oblivious than me. You always were."

"But yer love me."

"But I love you," Alan agreed, reaching for the picnic basket and leaning back against Eric as Eric leant against the trunk of the tree. Before long, the lid was open and Alan was pulling out some sandwiches which he had made, meat and salad in them, so that Eric would eat more healthily. The blonde seemed to utterly love eating meat, but would hardly ever eat his greens. Sometimes, Alan was sure he was growing up with a child.

Handing one over to Eric, he took one for himself and started eating, feeling himself humming as he watched the dappled sunlight on the ground and felt Eric breathing behind him. Of course, they didn't need to breathe, but the air smelt so fresh and clean, despite them being in London with all the peasoupers and other factory gases, that the two felt they just had to take it in.

"Alan," Eric's voice sounded, Alan halfway through his own sandwich, though it appeared that Eric had yet to start his. "Yer've put leaves in my sandwich."

"It's called lettuce, Eric."

"Fine, yer've put lettuce in my sandwich."

"Don't complain so much, Eric," Alan murmured, feeling his lips curve up into a smile. "It's healthy, and you never eat your greens. Besides, I've packed little other healthy food, so just eat it."

"Bu' its green," Eric complained, picking out the leaves and dropping them onto the floor, Alan just shaking his head in despair. Honestly, Eric didn't really _have_ to eat the correct diet, being a Reaper, because he couldn't die from it, but he could get fat, and somehow, Alan didn't think that the blonde wanted that. He wouldn't mind if the blonde did, as it would still be Eric, and they would still be together, but it would mean that Eric was even _bigger_ than him, and he already dwarfed the brunette by miles anyway. "An' I'm no' a bunny."

"I'm not a bunny, but do you hear me complaining?" Alan asked, finishing off his sandwich and pulling out a homemade slice of cinnamon and raisin cake. "Now eat up, or I won't give you a slice of this cake that I made. I may not be much of a cook, but I can bake."

What Alan said was true, he wasn't much of a cook. In fact, he had managed to burn a salad once, but he was brilliant at baking. Bread, cakes and cookies were often left to cool on the side whenever Eric came back from shopping for food to cook the dinner with, and he always tried some, even when Alan told him not to, and hit him with a baking utensil when he did. Eric just chuckled, and Alan only ever hit in jest, anyway.

"I know yer can," Eric agreed, finally taking a bite out of the sandwich and muttering about it being 'only just bearable', "Because you do it every day. But yer're definitely a bunny."

"What in the Realm are you talking about, Eric?" Alan asked, wrinkling his brow. Eric was often talking nonsense for no reason, but this time really took the biscuit. Clearly, Eric having made extensive checks over the last week, ever since that night after the beach, Alan could not be classified as a bunny rabbit. He had two arms, two legs, and a human body structure. Had Eric gone mad? It seemed so.

"You. Yer a bunny." Repeating what he had said before, Eric ran his hands through the brunette's hair, tugging him a little closer on the branch, so they were pressed back-to-chest. "If yer were an animal, I mean. Yer'd be a bunny."

"Oh really?" Alan asked, turning round to see that Eric had finally finished off his sandwich. Smiling softly, Alan reached into the basket once more, pulling out a second slice of the cake he made and handing it to Eric, laughing slightly when the blonde hummed in enjoyment of the taste. "How so?"

"Well," Eric scratched his head for a second, before taking a second bite of cake, clearly thinking. After a few minutes, he spoke again, laughter in his voice. "Yer can be feisty, jus' like those little things, an' yer eat leaves fer days. Yer small, and yer quick and quiet. Bu' most of all, yer really very cute."

"I am not cute." Alan folded his arms, cake finished, and leaned away from Eric, stopped only by the arms of the other man, also finished with his cake, when they encircled the body of the brunette, pulling him closer instead.

"Yer cute."

"I'm not."

"Oh, you really are," Another voice, vaguely familiar, interrupted their conversation, and then a brown haired girl, dressed all in black, stepped forwards, her eyes rimmed with kohl, her lashes darkened beautifully. She had been hiding in the shadows, unnoticed due to the darkness of her dress and her hair, though when she reached out, black lace gloves extending behind her, two other girls stepped out from around a rather large tree, one of them recognisable as the blonde girl with the glasses from back at the beach, the other a complete stranger.

"We apologise for watching you," the blonde girl said, dipping down into a strange sort of curtsey, her blonde hair falling forwards over her shoulders as she smiled, her freckles stretching across her nose. "But as Jessamine said, you really are rather adorable."

The blonde girl stepped further forwards, allowing a patch of sun to shine upon her white dress, golden bows tied in the bustle and across the ruffles and frills on her bodice, a white straw hat pulled low over her eyes, a nice golden ribbon running around it, white flowers decorating that. Her smile was infectious, and she appeared to be wearing an engagement ring of some sort upon her left ring finger.

Next to her, the small, dark haired girl with the grey eyes stepped forwards, her golden hued gown brushing over the grass under the trees as she stepped forwards, curtsying low, allowing the tails of the green band around her waist to touch the floor as she smiled a small little smile, a matching straw hat upon her head.

"Sorry about them," was all she said, her voice light and happy, even when her face suggested otherwise. Then again, her eyes seemed to be full of joy, even when she had a straight face on. She was beautiful, just like the blonde girl, and though the brown haired girl in black couldn't be said to be beautiful, she was rather striking. Alan shifted uncomfortably. What, exactly, did these girls want? "They're always like this. You'll get used to them."

"Oh," Alan, at a loss for anything else to say, just stared at them, opening his mouth a few times, before attempting a smile, and pulling away from Eric, trying to look as if they weren't romantically involved, if only for the human's sakes. Thankfully, Eric let him go this time. "Um-"

"You needn't move," Jessamine said, holding up one of her lace-clad hands. "You honestly don't bother us with your relationship. We are… how shall we say… a bit more lenient than most, honestly."

"Well," the blonde agreed, dancing over to the one in black and throwing her arms around her shoulders, leaning her blonde head upon the black-clad shoulder of the other. The brunette tensed up, clearly not liking the attention we were receiving. "We would have to be, you and me fancying women both."

"While that is true," Jessamine agreed, finally extricating herself from the grip of the other, "You also fancy men, Arrah. Furthermore, you are engaged to one."

"Details, details," Arrah laughed, waving a hand a little, as if brushing cobwebs aside. "I love Marc, honestly, but… well, he isn't here, is he? This is a girls' day out."

"That's because Marcellus is busy overseeing the rebuilding of the wing of the house that was broken by some sort of explosion," the small brunette pointed out. Alan was still unsure of her name.

Relaxing a little, though, at what the girls had said, Alan leaned back into Eric, still a little tense. He wasn't much into public displays of affection, but then again, it was hardly public, as these girls appeared to have announced themselves friends of the two, whether Alan and Eric were okay with it or not, and they certainly weren't in front of a great deal of people. Besides, Arrah seemed to be rather a bit of a hugger, anyway.

"Tha's all very well and good," Eric rumbled, appearing a little put-out by the sudden appearance of the girls. "Bu' who are yer, and wha' do yer wan'?"

"You should know who we are," Arrah pouted, while Jessamine raised an eyebrow at them, a little moody herself. Clearly, she would much rather be somewhere else, anywhere else, than talking to some near strangers in the middle of a park. "You were at the beach the other day. We ate together."

"I didn' expect to see yer again," Eric pointed out, tugging Alan closer to himself and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I sor' of… forgo' who yer are."

"Oh," Arrah looked a little downcast for a moment, before bouncing back. Lifting up her skirts, she jumped forwards, attempting to lock Jessamine into a hug again. The brunette resisted. "Well, in that case, I'm Arrah Marshall, soon to be Arrah Atkins."

"And I'm Jessamine Ashdown, but please, call me Jessa."

Finally, the small girl who didn't appear to say much stepped forwards, a slight smile upon her lips. "I'm Gwendolyn Featherstone. Don't mind them. They're always like that."

"You mentioned," Alan murmured, watching the two as they appeared to fight, before turning back towards Gwendolyn, and noticing for the first time the fact that her arm was in a sling. Shaking his head, he wondered how he had missed it. He honestly hadn't been lying when he called himself oblivious earlier. "But why are they here?"

"Oh, they were walking past and wanted to say hello," Gwendolyn informed them, turning back to watch the fighting girls. Arrah had hitched up her skirts and was trying to step on Jessa's foot, but the brunette had pulled her skirt up too, revealing books that looked very much like something Grell would wear – heels that laced to the knee – and was dancing backwards, determined not to get crushed toes. Both were smiling and laughing, the gesture making Arrah look very beautiful, and revealing the large gap between Jessa's two front teeth, which were pushed back slightly, making the gesture seem a little like the exposure of a vampire's fangs on the girl dressed in black. "They just haven't quite got around to it yet."

"Got around to what?" Jessa was peering over Gwendolyn's shoulder, hands clasping both shoulders as she repositioned the other girl in front of her, Arrah not daring to step on the toes of the injured, smaller woman. Laughing, Jessa stepped back, brushing down her skirt, only to find a white, lace-up boot caught in her skirt a moment later as Arrah found that stepping on lace was not one of her finest ideas ever. After a while, they detangled from each other, and stood to attention, facing the bemused Eric and Alan. They truly were strange girls.

"Um…" Alan hesitated, wondering if they would act even stranger if he told them what they were forgetting to do. Instead, Eric took over. "Yer haven' go' around to sayin' hello. Tha's wha' yer wan' to do, righ'?"

"Obviously," Arrah smiled, nodding her head, the sunlight glinting off of the glasses and highlighting her green eyes. It was odd, Alan thought. The girl before him was completely human, he could sense, but she looked so similar to the Shinigami it was unnerving. The only difference was, she was too forward to be Shinigami, unless she was Grell. To be honest, she was far too forward and fun-loving for anyone of the Victorian age. It was truly bewildering to Alan, though he supposed that it didn't matter too much. "I had to force Jessa to let me hug her… I think."

"Really?" Jessa seemed honestly surprised. Giggling a little breathlessly, she pushed her hair back out of her face, before picking her dressage hat up from where it had fallen on the floor and brushing it off, fixing it back up over her elegant hairstyle. It was tilted a little jauntily, so only one eye was visible, and that eye held a playful gleam. "I honestly had no idea what we were fighting over. I forgot."

"Me too." Arrah agreed, repositioning her own hat, before pushing up her glasses, seeing as their little fight and made them fall down the girl's nose. Quietly, Gwendolyn agreed in the background, and both girls turned and grinned at her, before turning back to Eric and Alan and grinning wider.

"We only really came over because we noticed you on the path." Jessa pointed out, smoothing out her clothes and rubbing under her eyes, wiping away any smudged kohl. "I wanted to thank you, on Mercy's behalf. She seemed to think you had done her an unimaginable favour by returning her children."

"Jasper did too," Arrah pointed out, linking her arm with the brunette. This time, the girl didn't protest. "Though I don't really know why I mentioned it. He's never particularly liked me, ever since I sawed his cane in half."

"There's probably a reason for that," Gwendolyn pointed out, but stopped and started laughing with the girls. "Though he did deserve it."

"Too right." Jessa agreed. "He was being particularly obnoxious that day."

"Agreed," Arrah said, seeming once more to fit somewhere outside of the Realm that they were in. Never before had Alan heard such casual phrases and easy-speaking in adult humans. This was something that never happened. It was like these three were children that never grew up in mind, just in body. Truly confused, he just smiled and told Jessa that their saving the children was nothing, for what seemed like the thousandth time, sighing in relief when the three girls bid one last goodbye, before walking off, their bickering, though joyful voices echoing through the trees, the singing of the birds finally able to be heard when they had faded away to three spots in the distance.

"Well," Eric said, sounding very confused and mentally blown. "That was weird."

"Yes," Alan agreed, leaning against the other and feeling content enough to sleep. He was full, he was warm, and he was relaxed. "They seemed a little… out of place, if you understand what I mean."

"I agree," Eric replied, before relaxing a little more and feeling his face stretch into a smile, his joking tone flooding his voice again. "Bu' unless Undertaker is experimenting with time, now, then we have no problem."

"I suppose you're right," Alan agreed, breathing in deeply, before closing his eyes and listening to Eric's heart, smiling as Eric chuckled.

…..

Hours later, and the two were still in the park, watching as the clouds were stained pink across the sky. They had been talking for hours, the two of them very happy, neither forgetting their strange meeting with the girls, but the urgency that it seemed to spring to mind with them fading away. Besides, if they really were out of their time, they were somebody else's problem. Alan was perfectly content with having no problems, now, and he suddenly found himself marvelling at the fact that he hadn't had an attack in months.

Before, it hadn't seemed like a big deal, his mind on other things such as Eric's stupidity, and his anger, and all the work he had to because Eric was gone, but now, now that he was standing, watching the sky in the empty park with Eric, fingers interlocked, he seemed amazed. For the first time, he realised he could plan for a future with the man he loved and not feel like he was kidding himself, because he truly wasn't. He could think about where they would go next weekend and tell Eric the week before, instead of on the day, because before he had no certainty, and now he had all the certainty in the world.

The feeling was liberating, he decided, and he leaned his head on Eric's chest, too short to reach the man's shoulder. Eric chuckled a little, pulling Alan into his side, and squeezing him a little, nose buried in the brunette's hair as they listened to the final chirps of the birds in the trees and the breeze rushing through the leaves. It was a perfect day they had spent out, and Alan was determined to make it a perfect night, too.

"It's amazing," he murmured, causing Eric to hum in confusion. Alan squeezed his fingers. "The fact that I'm not waiting to die slowly any longer. It's strangely… freeing."

Eric said nothing, instead pulling Alan even closer, though the brunette wasn't entirely sure it was possible, and kissed his head instead. Alan could feel the blonde's lips curl into a smile, and sighed in enjoyment and relaxation, before continuing on.

"Don't get me wrong, Eric, I'm never going to thank you for what you did, because it was wrong. But I am glad that you did it. Though I still feel sadness for all those people who died needlessly."

"It wasn' needlessly."

"It was," Alan whispered, holding onto Eric's hand as tightly as he could, feeling as though something big was going to happen. He hoped they wouldn't fight. He didn't like it when they fought. "I would have given you every remaining day, you know. I thought I was selfish for wanting it at the time, but I would have given you everything I had in the time I had left."

"Bu' I never wanted the time you had left," Eric whispered, causing Alan to suck in his breath. What was the blonde saying? "I wanted all the time. Forever. Still do."

"Eric," Alan turned around, reaching up to hold the blonde's cheek, watching the emotions play through Eric's eyes. The man looked like he was about to have everything he wanted taken away from him, and Alan had no idea why. "I love you, and I would give you all my time, if I could, though I can't. Work is demanding, and you and I both have friends, but I give you most of my time, and I love you, which I may or may not have already mentioned, but I still feel as if those people didn't have to die. Not for me."

"I don' know if you know this," Eric said slowly, hand reaching up to hold the hand that was pressed against his cheek, the two different leathers of their different gloves sticking together. "Bu' I do still think about all those people, and wish tha' there could have been a differen' way, bu' there wasn'. I know I've sinned beyond reason in mos' peoples' eyes, and I know yer'll never really forgive me fer tha', bu' I love yer, Alan, and I can' live without yer. Yer the only thing tha' keeps me going. If you wen', I would go too. You mus' know, before yer pass any sor' of judgement on me tha' I thought a lo' before takin' action, and I decided that, even though I would have to kill so many innocents, you were still more important on me."

"Eric," Alan whispered, tears springing to his eyes. Everything Eric said seemed to hint at the fact that Eric believed that Alan would never truly forgive him, but he was wrong. He was already forgiven, but that didn't mean that Alan couldn't feel regret. Sighing softly, Alan reached up with his other hand, holding Eric's face between his palms. "I love you. And I do forgive you. I have. I always have. Because you're you, and you're wonderful, and I love you too much to hate you." Eric's eyes widened at this. "I know you must think about all those people each day… If it was me, I would, and it would drive me crazy. I was merely expressing regret at their loss, not trying to have a go at you in any way."

"Alan…" Eric breathed, sliding his hands around the brunette's waist, hands clutching tightly at the material on the back of Alan's coat. "How...? Why…? Why forgive me? No-one else can."

"Don't be silly," Soothingly, Alan stroked his hands up and down the blonde's back, smiling softly as the blonde buried his head into the crook of his shoulder. "Jose, Nova and Kai forgive you," Alan murmured. "And I do, of course. Do you want to know why?"

Eric nodded, so Alan continued. "Because I would do exactly the same thing."

"Wha'?" Eric looked up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I mean it." Alan promised, linking their fingers back together. "I was thinking about it the other night, and I realised that I… Well, I would do anything in my power, even if it had only the slimmest chance of succeeding, if it meant keeping you with me, forever. I love you, and I couldn't let you go. And if what you feel is what I feel, Eric, then I understand, completely, your point of view."

"Alan…" Eric breathed again, a small smile stretching on his face, before he lowered his head until their noses touched. "I love yer, yer know."

"I know." Alan promised, about to inform the blonde that he returned the sentiment, but was cut off before he could. Said blonde had connected their lips in a kiss, and they stayed that way, breathing in the sweet smell of the greenery and each other, and drinking in the taste of one another, for a good long while, only stopping when the light dimmed a little, and Alan realised what time it was. Pulling back softly, eyes glittering as he looked up at Eric with a smile, head still reeling from the romantic kiss they had shared, Alan bent down and picked up the picnic basket at their feet, before linking their hands and starting walking towards a secluded alley, ready to portal back to the Reaper Realm.

"Come on," he murmured, eyes connecting with Eric's over his shoulder and a smile. "I presume Grell isn't going to be returning on Monday, so we're going to need all the sleep we can get. And I have an appointment at the hospital on Friday. I don't want them telling me I'm overworked."

"Fine," Eric agreed, following after him, a smile in his voice. "Bu' can we have a bi' of fun tonigh' first?"

Alan appeared to think about it for a while, before replying. "A bit." He agreed, a grin spreading across his face, laughing as Eric leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

Laughing and talking, they both walked out of the park and towards the alley where they could portal from, neither with a care in the world as they left, though Alan was rather concerned about the hospital appointment. He had the feeling that something was going to show up that hadn't been there before. But what?

 **Author's Note: So, guess the next chapter? I made that less of a cliff hanger than I wanted, but I can't really think of anything else, and if I didn't say that, it would seem like the ending of a story, which it certainly is not. Hope you enjoyed!**


	8. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, simply this story line and the OCs.

One Thousand Souls Chapter Seven

Alan sat on the bed in the hospital, knowing that Eric was still busy at work. He had taken the afternoon off himself to allow for the hospital appointment, and now he was waiting for his friends, Doctor Braylen Lawrence-Robinson and Nurse Roger Lawrence-Robinson. They normally gave him his check-ups now, despite being good friends with him, because he was in no serious danger, and would not make poor judgement calls, as there were no calls to make, just a quick check-up to be had.

Despite feeling fine, Alan was still a little nervous, and always would be when he sat down to be tested for the Thorns. When he had first got them, he had felt fine for weeks before they gave him an attack, and to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure how the cure of one thousand souls worked, and didn't entirely trust that the Thorns wouldn't return. Clearly, the Doctors had the same worries as he did, otherwise he wouldn't be in for check-ups. This particular check-up was worrying Alan more than normal, as well, because Braylen and Roger were convinced that they had found some information on the Thorns and the cure that Alan may like to hear. That didn't bode well with him, and he sat tense and nervously on the bed.

"I don't know why you look so worried," a voice broke Alan out of his reverie. It belonged to a blonde man named Lance Knight, the same man that had been there the night that Alan had been cured, and it was rather bitter. "You no longer have the Thorns. You're no longer dying. You have forever to live now."

"I might not," Alan pointed out, studying the man. He didn't appear particularly pleased to see Alan, and Alan had to admit that he wasn't pleased to see Lance, either. The man was gaunt and ghostly-pale, with big looking eyes and a wheezy way of breathing that suggested he was nearing his end, just a few more months left in him, if that. Alan supposed that he didn't like being around the blonde because it reminded him so much of what he used to look like, when he was practically lying on his death bed. Hunching his shoulders, he let his eyes meet the angry green eyes of Lance. Most people, he knew, expected the eyes of the dying to be mild and calm, not having enough energy to have the temper that he could see in Lance's eyes now, but he knew that they could be angry and bitter, because he had been there once. "There are tests being done now that will tell me whether the Thorns have returned or not."

"They haven't," Lance stated, sitting himself down in the chair next to the bed that Alan was sitting on – the nurses still led him to the room that he had stayed in so commonly before that night – and ordinarily Alan might have felt a stab of annoyance, though he would have been too annoyed to say anything. However, he let it slide with Lance. The man really did look like he would have fallen over any minute had he not sat.

"You don't know that," Alan was trying his best to sooth the temper of the other man, because he was so bitter at the fact that Alan was no longer dying. Without even having finished his task, though, Alan knew he wouldn't succeed. There was no soothing the bitterness he saw in the eyes of the blonde man.

"You don't have the Thorns," Lance repeated, clenching his fist atop the arm of the chair. "You're too bright and healthy to have them."

"I looked like this the first time I got them," Alan pointed out, before looking down at his lap, fingers interlocking and dancing away from each other nervously. Lance's being with him wasn't helping his nerves at all. "I felt perfectly healthy then, too."

"Didn't everybody?" Lance asked, before leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. It appeared to be one of his favourite pass-times. Raising his eyes to the ceiling as well, Alan shifted a little, before glancing down at the door, hoping to see Braylen and Roger walking in. They weren't. "You don't have the Thorns, I don't know why you won't accept that. I would gladly accept it if I were told that, myself."

"I do accept it," Murmuring his reply, Alan turned his head to look at Lance again, watching as the green eyes of the other shifted to him, the blonde strands on his head half slicked back and half messy, telling Alan that the man had had an attack that day while during the office. A frown pulled on the corner of his lips. "I just worry. I was ready to die, you see, and now I'm not going to. It's a very strange feeling."

"I envy you," Lance stated, voice stronger than it had been before. "Two hundred years in service to the Shinigami, and how does the world repay me? With death. Seems unfair."

"How long have you had it?" Meek in the quiet room, Alan's question seemed to fall upon deaf ears, until Lance finally answered some minutes later.

"Two years," he sighed, reaching up to scratch his head, before rubbing a hand down his face. "They're only supposed to last for that long. I'm going to die, soon."

"I was going to die soon, before I was cured." Alan said, leaning back on his hands to watch the ceiling. He blinked slowly, wondering when the two Lawrence-Robinsons' would show up. The depressing atmosphere of the room was making him rather uneasy. "I would have died if I had another attack. I saw how close the Thorns were to my heart… It was a shock."

"Humph," was all Lance said, folding his arms and leaning his head back again, before struggling upright to look at the brunette, curiosity burning through his features. "How long have you served, before you contracted the Thorns, Mr Humphries?"

"I was almost fresh out of the academy," Alan murmured, a flush rising to his cheeks. When compared to the other, it rather seemed as if the less useful man was staying alive. Alan knew that Lance had worked for Collections too, and had only stopped working a year ago when the attacks had started to get too bad for him. "I thought I would die almost immediately within my second chance of life. It seemed rather fitting with my bad luck from my first life that I should have such awful luck in my second life."

"You don't have such bad luck from my point of view," Growled Lance, softly. "I would stop feeling so miserable if I were you, and get out there and enjoy life. I see that your lover doesn't have to lose you now. In fact, I see you have such good luck that you have someone that was willing to collect so many innocent souls to save your life."

"I was furious with him at first," Alan informed the other, feeling his glasses slide down his nose as he looked down. Feeling the brush of his leather gloves against his face, Alan pushed them back up again, thinking back to when he and Eric hadn't been talking. The memories didn't sit well with him anymore, considering the love that they shared now. "He shouldn't have killed so many. Not for me. But I've forgiven him. I had to, because I love him."

"You're overly emotionally connected with humans, Mr Humphries," Lance's voice held venom, and Alan wondered what was wrong with that, exactly. Everyone seemed to tease him for it, save for Eric. He had learned, from the blonde himself, that he admired that quality in Alan. "If I had someone who would do that for me, I would not be angry at them. I wouldn't throw myself at them, either, and start some kind of nonsense relationship, but I certainly wouldn't be angry at them."

"Nonsense relationship?" Alan asked, eyebrows furrowed. "I haven't started a nonsense relationship with Eric. I've loved him for a long while. I just never told him because I was going to die."

"I bet you would say that about any person that ended the Thorns for you," Lance retorted, seemingly about to say something more, until the door swung open and Braylen and Roger walked in, both of them smiling a little. Lance picked himself up and slunk away, back to his own bed, and the smile fell off of Braylen's face when he saw the expression the brunette was wearing, the smile on Roger's face seeming to fix in place.

Together, the two made an extraordinarily cute couple, their matching silver bands worn on their left ring fingers. Their hands were linked together, Braylen's dark skin next to the milky-white skin of Roger's. Roger's silver-framed glasses glinted in the light, smiling down at the top of Braylen's head, where his long black hair had been pulled into a messy bun on the back of his head, strands escaping all over the place. The doctor reached up his hand to push up his red-framed glasses, but Roger couldn't do that for his own, so they were riding precariously low on his nose, his spare hand filled with a large, ancient looking book. Alan eyed it dubiously, as the doctor, the smaller of the two, stepped forwards, a smile appearing on his face again.

"Good news, Alan," he said, dropping Roger's hand. "You don't have the Thorns."

Though the news was always the same, Alan felt a weight lift off his shoulders, and he felt himself smiling back at his two friends, forgetting the conversation he had been having with the bitter blonde over on the other bed, who appeared to be sleeping. Roger placed the book he was carrying down on the bed and started leafing through the pages, a crinkling sound accompanying the action.

"We already suspected that you wouldn't have the Thorns," Braylen continued, turning to watch as his husband flicked through the book. A little confused, Alan copied them, noticing that the aged pages were covered in a curling font, a few ink-blots here and there, and a lot of seemingly garbled language. Turning to his friends, he raised an eyebrow in a silent question. "But we have found some new information that could be very important to you, in either a bad way or a good."

"Or it could be nothing," Roger interjected quickly, though his nervous shifting from side to side was enough to tell Alan that the other Reaper didn't much agree with what he had just said.

"What?" Cautiously, Alan probed the two, and Roger turned back to the book, fingers running over the pages hurriedly, clearly searching for something hidden among the pages of utter nonsense.

"Now, Alan," Braylen started, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "I'm sure it will be fine. This may be a whole lot of rubbish, but it appeared to be in a rather well written, clear account, one of five that have been written about the cure."

"Five?" Alan questioned. Surely more had been cured of the Thorns than five people?

"Not many people have a person as willing as you do to save them from the Thorns," Braylen pointed out, pushing up his glasses as he eyed Roger from the side of his eyes, clearly getting a little impatient.

"I'd save you, if you caught the Thorns," Roger turned to Braylen and smiled, before leaning in to peck the other on the lips. Braylen smiled a little, looking up at his husband, before pushing at his chest, a silent command to stop the moment they were sharing and get back to their job. Alan was glad. He didn't much like watching private moments between couples, no matter how well he knew the couple.

"That's all very well and good," Braylen pointed out, pushing up his spectacles again and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his hear, his blue gloves contrasting greatly against the midnight of his hair. "But I want to know how I'd even get the Thorns."

"You won't," Roger assured him, eyes still skimming over the page and a distracted tone colouring his voice. "I won't let it happen."

"Good," Braylen turned back to Alan. "Anyway, about those accounts. We found something very interesting within the clear one, and we checked the more confusing ones to see if this occurred in any more stories, and, well… It did."

"What did?" Alan was honestly confused, wide eyes darting between the two before him. "What's going on?"

"Here it is!" Roger exclaimed, slamming his finger down on the paper. Both Alan and Braylen turned to face the other man, both a little surprised by the sudden outburst. "'Whomever is cured of the Thorns through this method, they themselves shall become a true woman, or a woman should they be a man'."

"What?" Alan asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did his friends just honestly say they suspected that he was going to become a woman? Clearly that was not the case, as he was standing, as a male, very clearly before them. "I don't quite understand."

"Another includes 'A woman shall be made of any man that this cure is used upon. Women shall not be cured often, however, they too shall become a woman'." Roger read out, fingers running over another page, a little further back in the book. "In each section, there comes a part talking about a male becoming a woman. And in the second section," he flipped to nearer the front. "It says that this change shall 'be non-existent at first, but shall show up a few months after this. The man will bear the curse that few men bear, and they shall no longer be a man'."

"I'm sorry," Alan stuttered, blinking in confusion, "but what is that supposed to mean? I'm still a man, and no changes have occurred that make it seem otherwise, so I'm a little confused."

"It _seems_ like no changes have occurred," Braylen stressed, running a hand through his messy strands and pulling even more of them out of the bun on the back of his head. "But in reality, they might have done."

Alan blinked in confusion again. Had his friends lost it? It seemed rather to him that they were making a big deal out of nothing, though he didn't want to upset them by saying that to their face. They seemed entirely too upset anyway. What was going on?

"I still don't understand," Cautiously Alan suggested that they should slow down and explain fully, so, taking a deep breath, they did.

"'The curse few men bear' reminded us of something," Roger said hesitantly, running a hand through his fiery curls. "A few weeks ago, a man in the Scottish division showed up with a pregnancy, which is usually considered to be a 'curse' on men. It has been since ancient times."

"A man?" Alan asked, feeling as if his day was becoming stranger and stranger. "Could you possibly explain a little further, please?"

"There is a possibility of a male Reaper becoming fertile," Braylen stated, walking closer to Alan and sitting on the bed next to him, fiddling with a pen that he slipped out of his pocket, his smooth, chocolate-skin a bright contrast against the white of his coat as his gloved fingers danced. "But it is very rare. Normally, it occurs in fours once every two-hundred years or so. We have no idea why, but it is normally concentrated in the London area, and we believe that this is because it really is a curse. As far as we can tell, it was cast by a witch named Agatha Bloodworth around one thousand years ago."

"It was cast in London," Roger continued on, his own gloved hands fiddling with the stethoscope that was hanging around his neck. "And it was cast under the Reaper Moon, which is like a Blood Moon, save for the fact that all the stars appear red too. It's more to do with magic, the Reaper Moon, than anything in space, but I'm sure you know that. They teach it in the Academy, don't they?"

"The thing is, what they don't teach," Braylen continued, sounding very sure of himself. It was likely that whatever he was about to say was correct, as well, as he very much loved reading up on mythical and magical things in the Reaper Realm. Alan shifted a little nervously, and stayed silent, allowing Braylen to continue. "Is that the Reaper Moon remembers, and it copies. Anything of specific import that happen upon that night would be carried on every time the Reaper Moon occurs."

"What happened that night was a curse, cast by Agatha, and it was upon four Reapers who tried to kill her, because she was playing with Souls that didn't belong to her." Roger pushed his glasses up, taking over from Braylen once more. "One of them moved to Scotland after that, two months after the curse was brought down upon them, and the other three stayed in London. Because of that, every two-hundred years, a man falls pregnant in Scotland, and three fall pregnant in London. We have no idea who they are going to be, but one is always exceptionally young to be pregnant, fresh out of the Academy, one is a new-born Reaper, just a few days since death, and two are fully-fledged, hundred year old Reapers."

"It seems like a blessing, if you think about it." Braylen pointed out, hand reaching out and linking with Roger's. "The ability to bare Reaper children that will grow up without having to know the pain of death before coming to this land and this life, but at the time it was a curse. Men were not allowed to lay with men during the times that we speak of, and all four of those men were in a secret relationship with another man. They were soon found out. We believe that is why it was called a curse."

"In this much more civilised age," Roger interjected again, making Alan want to laugh a little at their continued switching of telling the story. They were so in love, he noted, and he hoped that he would be just the same way with Eric, even after hundreds of years. "We don't have any issues with a same-sex relationship, which is all the better for us." He laughed, Braylen smiling with him. "But it means that every two-hundred years men will fall pregnant."

"That's all very well," Alan stated, looking at the two of them, eyebrows furrowed a bit. "But I don't really fit into any of those categories, and it has nothing to do with the Thorns. I'm no longer fresh out of the Academy, only Tyler and Ronald fit into that category, but I am not one hundred or more. Clearly, the man in Scotland was the elder one, otherwise you would have said he was the young one, and I do not fit within the hundred-year category. In fact, I'm not a fresh-born Reaper either, so what has it to do with me?"

"We were explaining the curse," Braylen pointed out, before leaning across Alan and pulling the book towards him, resting it upon his lap. "It has to do with you because 'or a woman should they be a man' clearly doesn't mean that you will become a woman. You are sitting next to me, and I can assure you that you are still of the male gender. However, it is highly likely that the Thorns of Death's cure turns you into a fertile Reaper, without heeding the curse timing, or causing any of the usual amount of fertile males to decrease."

"The amount of souls of children and women that would be within the innocent sector are larger than that of the male proportion, as women are hardly allowed to do anything in the human world at the moment. Braylen and I predict that the sheer amount of said souls will have a large effect on the body, and will likely leave you fertile. In fact, we believe that you are, now, seeing as so many months have gone by since the time that you were cured. We would say that it is remarkable that you haven't become pregnant by now, in fact, but you were waiting for Eric, weren't you?"

Alan flushed and nodded, his thoughts reeling. So he was likely fertile? How was that going to affect the relationship he had with Eric? The blonde had said that he didn't want to be a father, instead wanting to keep Alan all to himself, but wasn't that selfish? He would have to tell Eric that he was fertile, but then again, save for refraining from sex, there was nothing they could do that would stop him from becoming pregnant, and he was fairly certain that Eric wouldn't want to do that. But what if Eric didn't want the baby? Alan couldn't give it away, and he _certainly_ wasn't going to kill it. It was only a tiny, adorable little thing that had done no harm, and Eric had looked _so_ happy and caring with those babies they had saved on the beach. He didn't think that Eric would demand that it go, but a small doubt was nagging at him, and he hated himself for even thinking that should he become pregnant, Eric would want nothing to do with the after-effects.

"Alan," Braylen asked, nudging him gently and breaking him out of his thoughts. With wide, slightly worried eyes, the brunette turned towards the other man, wondering what he had to say. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and they're going to seem personal, but you need to answer them for me. You seem a little worried is all, and Roger and I would like to arrest your doubts."

"Okay," Alan agreed, nodding his head as he tried to organise his thoughts. It wasn't working very well, and he hoped that Braylen and Roger really could help him.

"My first question is this," Braylen said, holding up one finger. "If the answer is no, then you have nothing to worry about, but have you and Eric had sex yet?"

A flush rose to Alan's cheeks, and he couldn't help but hide his face in his hands, but he nodded in the affirmative. Briefly, Roger muttered something about taking it quickly, but a sound that remarkably resembled a man being hit with a book followed, and no words were heard out of Roger again.

"Okay," Braylen nodded, sounding calm and collected. Alan lowered his hands, but kept his face angled towards his knees as the doctor continued. "So there is a chance that you are pregnant. Was it only once, because then the chance would be rather slim."

"No," Alan whispered, face flushing ever brighter. Soon, he was fairly sure he would be glowing red. In an even quieter voice than before, he informed his friends, and doctors, of his and Eric's night-time activities. "Every night that we weren't too tired…. Which was at least four in the last week…. Nights, I mean."

"So…" Braylen said, eyes shifting away from Alan.

"So…" Roger repeated, Braylen and him sharing a look between them. "Alan, we don't know how to tell you this, but fertile males are usually _very_ fertile before their first birth. It can usually take just one time sleeping together for them to become pregnant. You have a _very_ large chance of being pregnant."

Feeling his heart stop, Alan looked up with wide, desperate eyes, brows furrowed in horror. "You mean that I am very likely to be carrying a baby _right_ now?"

"Yes," in unison, the two agreed, their heads bobbing in time, too.

"But…" Pausing to think of something, _anything_ to say, Alan stared at the two, his mouth parting finally. "Eric doesn't want a family. He said so just last week, when I said that I was sorry that I took away his ability to ever start one."

"He would have had a hard time anyway," Roger pointed out, tapping his toes awkwardly on the ground, hands in his pockets. "Female Reapers aren't really very fertile at all."

"He might have found a human," Alan pointed out, shrugging ever so very slightly, "Or he might have got lucky."

"I think he did get lucky," Braylen pointed out, pushing his glasses up again. Alan honestly didn't know why he didn't get them resized to fit properly. "He got you, after all."

"That's not the point," Alan murmured, looking down at the ground. "I may be carrying a child. I don't know what to do with a child. Eric doesn't want one. What am I supposed to do?"

"Eric will understand," Roger murmured, ruffling Alan's hair and then sliding his hand down to his shoulder, squeezing it in sympathy. "Besides, you said he's good with children."

"That doesn't mean he wants one," Alan pointed out, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"Look, Alan," Braylen said, slipping off of the bed and going to stand next to Roger, their height difference rather large between them, though Alan was still shorter than Braylen. He was shorter than everyone, it seemed. "You might not even be pregnant. I just said there was a rather large chance that you were."

When Alan still didn't reply, he sighed.

"Tell you what," He smiled, reaching out to grab the leather covered hand of the brunette and pull him to his feet. "Come back to the hospital if you have any symptoms of pregnancy, like vomiting every day, cravings and getting a little bigger around the waist. If not, you're fine."

Nodding, Alan mustered up a small smile, allowing himself to be hugged by each of his friends. Done with hugging, he turned and headed towards the door, ready to leave the hospital.

"Oh, and Alan," he turned and looked over his shoulder. "Don't tell Eric until you're sure, if you're really that worried. You don't want any arguments to occur over nothing."

Nodding once more, Alan walked towards and then through the door, ready to go home, though he was still unsure what he was going to tell Eric, and what was really going through his head.

….

An hour later, Eric walked into the house, Alan just having finished baking some bread. Buttering a warm slice, he took a bite out of it and walked towards the blonde, leaning up to peck him on the lips, laughing a little as Eric's beard tickled him.

"Is tha' still warm?" Eric nodded towards the bread in Alan's hand, receiving a nod as he took his coat off. "Will yer le' me have a bite?"

"Get your own," Alan told him, but held out the bread for him anyway. Eric smiled, taking it, and slipping it into his mouth, humming with enjoyment as he felt the warm, buttery feeling against his tongue. Alan, watching him, felt his face fall as he thought again about what had occurred that day. Eric noticed too, and his eyes narrowed, a concerned look crossing his face.

"Are yer alrigh'?" He asked, slipping over to the other and wrapping his arms around him, nuzzling his nose into the hollow between Alan's shoulder and neck. "Yer didn' have to give me yer bread, yer know?"

"Don't be so silly Eric," Alan mumbled, reaching up to rub Eric's back, before stepping away and smiling a small smile up at him. "I gave the bread to you. I want you to be fat, if one of us is going to be."

"I knew it!" Eric crowed triumphantly, walking towards the kitchen and turning to smile back at Alan. "Yer constant baking is to fatten me up! Are yer gonnae eat me, like in Hansel and Gretel?"

"No," Alan murmured, walking up behind Eric and wrapping his arms around the larger man, sighing as his head came only to Eric's shoulder once more. "I wouldn't eat you. I'd make it so you couldn't run away and would have to stay with me always."

"Ah, silly Alan," Eric patted the hands that were linked across his stomach, before reaching for a knife to cut another slice of bread. "I'm not gonnae leave yer, so yer don' need to fatten me up."

"Good," Eric was buttering the bread, Alan watching with eagle eyes, always so caught up in how elegant the man could be, despite his giant size. Leaning his head against the other's back, he sighed, his voice coming out breathy. "I love you."

"I love yer too," Eric agreed, turning in the other's grip. Eyes watching Alan curiously, sharply, Eric ruffled the other's hair, smiling down at him. Stepping away, Alan tried to neaten up his hair, and Eric folded one arm across his body, the other still holding the bread, ready to be eaten. "Yer had a check-up today, didn' yer?"

"Yes," dejectedly, Alan forgot what conclusions Eric would jump to should he be less than happy when returning from a check-up. "I did."

"Wha's wrong?" Eric reached out and lifted Alan's chin, making the brunette stare into his worried eyes. "Are they back? Talk to me, Alan."

"Don't worry so much, Eric," Trying out a smile, Alan reached up and rested his hand against the blonde's cheek, finding the gesture usually calmed the man. "The Thorns are still gone, and won't be making a comeback as far as we can tell. I'm just tired. I had a long talk with Braylen and Roger, and I want to sleep it off."

"Are yer sure?" Eric asked, eyes still worried as he held the brunette's face. "You can tell me if they're back. I won't go back to killing people. If the Thorns returned, then the cure didn't work. You know I wouldn't be so silly, don't you? There must be other ways."

Thinking back to a line in the book that had been mostly glossed over, Alan remembered that it had mentioned something about being 'whomever is cured of the Thorns through this method'. Nodding a little, Alan managed a tiny smile, eyes shining with reassurance for the blonde.

"Honestly, I think there is," he promised Eric, telling him about the line in the book, though leaving out the rest of the story. He could see that the mere mention of the book sent curiosity surging through the blonde, but he wasn't about to get into it now. "But I honestly don't have the Thorns again, either."

Accepting that for the truth, Eric nodded, before grabbing the brunette's hand and pulling him into the living room, pushing him down on the sofa and smiling at him. He told him not to move, instead to rest, and Alan agreed, letting the blonde get a fire going in the fireplace, before going into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Warmed by the fire and relaxed by the sound of Eric humming from the next room, Alan found himself nodding off, thoughts finally dying down in his head. So what if he was pregnant? He was certain Eric would accept it. He just wasn't telling Eric because he didn't want the blonde to get any false hope. Smiling slightly and laying down on the sofa, he reached for a cushion and hugged it to him, burying his face into it, glad to find that it smelt like Eric. Hearing the crackle of the fire and smelling the beautiful smell of stew being cooked and wood burning, along with the spicy, musky scent of Eric, Alan fell asleep.

….

Eric looked down at the sleeping brunette upon the sofa, a cushion held tightly to him. He was adorable and delicate, small and feisty, and perfect in every way for Eric. Slowly, the man leant down and picked Alan up, sitting himself down and resting the brunette's head in his lap. Alan wasn't telling him something, he knew, but he had assured him that he hadn't got the Thorns again. Anything else couldn't be truly bad. Anything else they could live through and survive. Only the possibility of death in his loved one could ever truly make Eric scared. Knowing this, and knowing that whatever it was that Alan was keeping from him couldn't be completely awful, Eric relaxed. Whatever it was that Alan was keeping from him, he would find out sooner or later, and they could decide what to do from them. Then there was that line from the book that Alan had told him, too…

 _Whomever is cured of the Thorns through this method, they themselves shall become a true woman, or a woman should they be a man_. What did it mean? Eric didn't know, but he was determined to find out.

 **Author's Note: This is set in the Victorian times, so while there are birth control methods, they wouldn't have been particularly effective, and many of them are for a woman to use, and Alan is not a woman (yes, I have looked this up. I'm sad, I know, but I want things to be factually accurate). Basically, the Reaper Realm has little better technology than the human Realm in my stories, just further advanced in fashions and acceptability in society. In my stories their medical methods are no better than the Victorian's own, save probably cleaner, as they are aware of infections and pathogens and take good care not to spread them. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope it was slightly different than what was expected! Please review, I'd love to know how to improve my work!**


	9. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, just the OCs and this storyline.

One Thousand Souls Chapter Eight

Four days later, on a Tuesday, Alan and Eric sat in the office, Eric looking stressed and worried, Alan feeling the same way. They had both been informed that new workers had come into the office, and soon found it was true, three people waiting to meet them in the office. A lot of graduates for Collections had passed their exam recently, it seemed, and now there were a lot of new people piling into the office, far too many for them to be correctly taught, meaning the more senior workers had to teach them how to do it, and had to take on two at a time, though William and Grell were excluded from this, as William hardly ever went on Reaps, and Grell had only just returned yesterday, but had been taken off of Reaps. Alan and Eric could only guess at why, but it seemed like William was angry at her, so it was possibly due to that. Eric had met one of the new workers who scurried around the building to carry boxes and paperwork here and there. He wasn't a particularly nice person, Eric had said, and was making fun out of the redheaded Reaper.

Now, there were six desks in the shared office, two against the far wall, two against the wall the door was set into, and one on each side wall, a Reaper seated at each desk. Tyler sat with Eric on the far wall, the new worker for the blonde seated quietly at the desk, looking eager to please. He appeared to resemble Alan in many ways, with a quiet, hardworking demeanour, fair skin and brown hair. In fact, there was little difference, save for their facial features and the fact that this new boy, Adam Howard, Alan believed, was three inches shorter than himself. It was a relief to have someone that was even smaller than him, and Eric had immediately teased him about it when they had walked into the room, making the new boys laugh. None of them, not even Tyler, seemed to suspect that he and Eric were in a relationship, though. Simply to keep up the professional front that he had, Alan would like to keep it that way.

He himself had two workers under his charge, and it was a rather daunting prospect, considering the fact that he had only recently stopped working under Eric's supervision. His boys were named George Palmer and Nicholas Jenkins, and they appeared to be very different. George was messy and disorganised, and Alan had little idea how he had managed to pass his exam. Then again, Grell had too…

Looking up from his paperwork, Alan studied the two, wondering if he was ready to take the job that he had been given on, but supposed that he would have to, whether he was or not. If he didn't, Jorge, Kai and Eric would all be given more work, while he sat back and relaxed. He would not stand for that. George was working, his dark skin a contrast against the white wall, black gloved hands flittering across the pages, though he didn't appear to be doing much work, just frowning at the documents before him. He looked up, eyes meeting Alan's, and they were cold and icy, looking at Alan as if he could do better than the brunette. Knowing it wasn't true, Alan raised an eyebrow at him and got back to work, ignoring the messy black hair that fell in waves around the other man's shoulders.

Glancing sideways at the desk next to his, the door separating their two desks, Alan watched the tidier, shorter Nicholas, who was, once again, shorter than Alan, but by less than Adam was. Nicholas had tidy black hair and brown-framed glasses, and looked very much like Mr Madden Owen from the Academy did, save for the fact that he was smaller, his brows finer and his lips fuller. They had the same black hair and dark skin, though Nicholas appeared to smell like spices all the time. Distractedly, the boy pushed his glasses up his nose, not even noticing Alan's eyes on him, and continued on with his work. That boy appeared to be someone less challenging, who appreciated the fact that Alan knew more than him and was ready to learn off of him, rather than fight him for some kind of power display like George appeared to want to do.

Breathing out slowly, Alan chewed on his lip with a tinge or worry, before looking down. His head whipped up again immediately as the door slammed open, his eyes widening as he noticed Ronald Knox standing in the doorway, clothes in slight disarray, and a look of excitement on his face. Clearly, he was there for Eric, but as Alan looked over, he noticed that the blonde was sleeping on his desk and sighed, wishing that Eric wasn't so useless at work.

Standing up, he walked over to the blonde, before reaching for his shoulder and shaking the blonde awake. Mumbling slightly, Eric grabbed Alan's hand, bringing it against his face, leaving Alan to blush.

"Slingby," he hissed, pulling his hand out of the other's, "Please stop that."

"And if I don'?" Eric challenged, raising his head to reveal that he had the ink-stains of writing on his cheek, leaving Alan to roll his eyes and Ronald to laugh at him, hurrying over to the desk and leaning his elbows on it, tapping his foot and smiling up at the two. Alan, sighing, reached for a handkerchief within his pocket, not bothering to give a reply to the other Reaper.

"Clean up your face," Alan told him, pressing the white square of material into his hand. "You have your signature on your cheek."

"Wha'?" Eric chuckled, handing the handkerchief back and rubbing at it with the sleeve of his jacket instead, leaving Alan to hold back a rather loud and irritated sigh. He only just succeeded. "Don' yer think it's a good look?"

"Yeah, no," Ronald interjected, clearly taking pity on the exasperated Alan. "Anyway, I didn't come here to wake you up or talk about fashion choices, I get enough of that with Grell-sempai. I came here to tell you that Grell's free now, and we can go and interrogate her."

Alan sat back down as the four new heads in the room looked up, each one with curiosity written across their features. Alan was a little surprised to see Tyler's face holding just as much curiosity as Alan, George and Nicholas displayed, before realising that the blonde hadn't yet met Grell. He had joined the day Grell left, and so had only two days to meet her, and that hadn't really happened at all. Sighing, Alan leaned back in his chair and watched the situation, wondering what, exactly was happening.

"Interrogate her?" Eric asked, scratching his head, features twisted into a confused scowl. "Yer woke me up to tell me tha' Grell ain't doin' anythin' now. Are yer a numpty?"

"Well," Ronald looked down, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. "I thought that you guys might like to know the reason that she was off for so long. I do, but I don't want to handle her alone. She can be pretty crazy, ya know?"

"Ron, we've worked with her fer longer than you. We know wha' she can be like."

"Well, she's even more moody now. I thought that we could go and talk to her, and find out why, or something…" The blonde trailed off, looking a little downcast, toes kicking at the carpet. Alan knew this trick well. Ronald liked to pretend that he was upset to get Eric to do things, because no matter how scary Eric looked, he could never resist someone if he appeared to upset them in any way. Eric started to get up, and Alan knew Ronald's trick had worked. It always did, and Alan honestly didn't understand why Eric hadn't grown wise to it.

"Alrigh'," Eric rose, stepping around his desk and towards the door while Ronald perked up, smiling happily behind him. "Le's go see tha' insane redhead. Are yer comin', Alan?"

"No," Alan shook his head, looking pointedly at the man and then back at the large pile of paperwork that was stacked upon the desk. "And you shouldn't either. You still have a lot of work to do."

"Ah, who cares?" Eric asked, brushing off what Alan had said. "We have little workers now. They'll do our work, won' yer?"

"Eric Slingby," Alan fumed, standing up from his chair and eyeing the other man. "I can't believe you would make the newbies do your paperwork. This is just like when I worked under you."

"Oh, stop complainin'," Eric groaned, before his face split into a smile and he grabbed Alan's wrist, pulling him out from behind the desk to stand with him and Ronald. "Yer know yer wannae know why Grell was off for so long."

"Yes, but this isn't the time-" Cut off from what he was saying by being grabbed on his other side by Ronald, Alan found himself being dragged out of the door, an exasperated sigh rising to his lips. "Eric Slingby, Ronald Knox, you will let me go this instant!"

"Nah," Eric informed him, turning to Alan and smiling, whilst closing the door to the office behind them. "Now is as good a time as any. Who cares about Spears, after all?"

Sighing, Alan bowed his head, resigning himself to being pulled along by the others. "Very well," he agreed, "But I'm expecting you to take my overtime, Eric."

Frowning, Eric turned to him, but by the time he had done that, they had reached Grell's door, Ronald knocking, before being allowed in by the redhead, a confused look upon her face.

…..

"They're dating," George decided, eyeing the slammed door between the newbies within the office and their seniors outside the office. "No doubt about it."

"What do you mean?" Nicholas asked, turning to face the other boy. "They aren't dating. There's no way they could be."

"Why do you say that?" Tyler asked, his attention on the dark haired man across the room. "Surely you can see it…. Adam, you can see it, can't you?"

"Oh…" He flushed, looking up with big, worried eyes, before nodding and looking back down, a whispered phrase leaving his lips. "They're practically married."

"I bet they are," Tyler exclaimed, a spark of realisation dawning in his eyes. "No one knows what they have under those gloves of theirs, and they were fighting like a married couple when I joined the department… though Eric did say that they weren't dating."

"I'm fairly sure that they hate each other," pushing his glasses up, Nicholas turned back to his paperwork. "Mr Humphries was very annoyed with Mr Slingby."

"Oh, stop being so oblivious," argued George, crumpling up a blank piece of paper that had been sitting next to him and chucking it at Nicholas. It bounced off the other's head and rebounded, miraculously landing in the bin. Had William T. Spears come in at any point, he would have been furious to see a crumpled piece of paper on the floor, George was sure. "They are definitely together. Didn't you see what Eric did when he woke up?"

"Anyone can do that in confused moments," Nicholas pointed out, smoothing down his black hair once more. "I, for one, don't think they're dating."

"Eric grabbed Alan's hand," piping up, Tyler laughed at the argument that was taking place. Were they really arguing over their senior's love life? It seemed so. "And Alan didn't let go."

"He grabbed Alan's wrist," Nicholas stated, turning to Adam. "You agree, don't you Adam?"

The brunette nodded his head, eyes wide and face flushed, before turning back to his paperwork. George just laughed, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "You lose, Nick. Adam's just going to agree with everything asked of him, right, Two?"

"Yes," he whispered, closing his eyes and flushing further. "Sorry."

"Two?" Tyler questioned, screwing his face up in confusion. "Why Two?"

"Well I, for one, think he looks a lot like Alan." George pointed out, leaning forwards again and resting his chin on one hand, the other slung over the back of his chair. "But Alan was here first, no? Therefore, Two."

"Oh," Tyler said, looking less confused, and would have said more, had the door not swung open. William T. Spears was standing there, eyes darting around the room, fixing on the empty chairs of Alan and Eric. His eyebrow twitched, and he strode further into the room, turning to Nicholas, studying him for a moment, and then speaking, clearly deciding that Nicholas was the most organised and helpful in the room.

"Mr Jenkins," he said, pushing his glasses up and frowning some more. It wasn't a surprise for the new workers. They had all heard stories of Mr Spears and his perpetual scowl, and they weren't surprised to see they were true. Stories that came from the Collections department were usually true. In fact, some of the strangest Shinigami worked there, it was said, and even though three of them had only worked there a day, it was certainly true. "Where are Mr Slingby and Mr Humphries?"

"Not here, sir," Nicholas replied, shaking a little. William's glare was truly a cold, piercing one. "I don't know where they are, sir."

"Did they say nothing?" The black haired man asked, turning and walking towards Eric's desk, noticing the smudged ink on Eric's paperwork and sighing. "Slingby fell asleep again, I suppose."

"Yes sir," Nicholas nodded, fiddling with his pen, before looking up again. "Does he do that often, sir?"

"Regularly," William replied, turning to Alan's desk and inspecting it just the same. "Though Humphries never does. He appears to have accomplished much more in the working hours so far today."

"He always does, sir," Tyler pointed out, fiddling with his long blonde hair that fell in a ponytail down his back.

"I am aware," the supervisor strode back to the centre of the room, putting his back to Adam. "Would I be able to locate them in the break room?"

"I doubt it," Tyler said, causing the supervisor to slowly turn his head to meet the blonde's eyes. "Mr Knox dashed in and dragged them out… well, dragged Eri- Mr Slingby out. Mr Slingby dragged Mr Humphries out."

"Knox," William fumed, pushing his glasses up once more. "I should have known. Did Knox say where they were going?"

"To find Grell?" Nicholas piped up. "I'm afraid I don't know her surname. Is she a secretary, sir?"

"Mr Sutcliff is not a secretary," William informed them, striding towards the door. "He is a troublesome worker who is far too keen to draw blood and run around with demons. I assume he will be in his office." He strode out of the door, looking back only to say one last thing. "I hope you have the common sense not to turn out like him. Good day to you, gentlemen."

With that, he was gone, leaving the four in the room to relax.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that Mr Spears and Mr Sutcliff are dating, now?" Nicholas asked, turning to George with his brows raised. "Is that it? Anyone with rivalry is in love in your eyes?"

Blinking back at him, George shook his head, staring back at the door that William had exited from.

"No way," he muttered, looking down at the table, "That man could not possibly love anyone. Did you see his face? Way too uptight to love. Besides, I only said that Alan and Eric were dating because of that massive scandal in which Eric was sent to jail, for doing something for Alan."

"You mean," whispered Adam, eyes even bigger and cheeks very pale this time. "That we're being taught by a criminal."

"It's not a crime if it's for love," George determined, looking down at his desk. "I heard Alan had the Thorns, see, and Eric killed one thousand innocent people to save him. If that's not love, then I don't know what is."

"I suppose," Nicholas still sounded unsure. "But that seems so extreme. I doubt they love each other. Not really. They might just be best friends."

"Seriously?" incredulously, George stared at Nicholas through narrowed eyes. "I'm seriously going to Reap you in a minute. Are you that stupid? Really?"

Nicholas just brushed him off, turning back to his work, causing the others to get back to work too. The only sound that was heard was that of George, muttering something about wishing that he had someone that would love him as much as Eric loved Alan.

…..

Walking the corridors with Eric, Alan felt his head reeling. Grell was pregnant. Pregnant! So she was one of the older Reapers who were going to bear babies. More information had been given to him, of course, such as the fact that a fertile male had to have thirteen children and could carry up to five at a time. He still didn't fully understand it, and knew that should he turn out to be pregnant, he would learn more about it in further detail. To be honest, the requirements of it sounded a little too much for him.

Next to him, Eric was walking along silently, seemingly tense and in thought. Alan didn't blame him. He had revealed that he was fertile within that room, and not only that, but they had just learned that the babies that Grell was carrying were going to be William T. Spears' children. That seemed rather a dangerous combination. They would be very serious, with an even hotter temper than William's, and they would be very good at fighting. It didn't appear to be a very good thing in Alan's eyes, especially with the way Grell saw the relationship that she had with William. Alan knew that they both held a special spot in their heart for the other, though he wasn't sure they knew it yet, but he certainly hoped they would grow into a loving couple. They both deserved that much, at least.

"I can' believe it," Eric mumbled beside Alan, jolting the brunette out of his thoughts. They were standing outside of their office in an empty hallway, and they had stopped walking. Clearly, they were going to talk there, though Alan wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

"I know," Alan agreed, looking up at the other. "I never expected Mr Spears to get Miss Sutcliff pregnant."

"Tha's no' wha' I meant and yer know it," Eric growled, looking down at the brunette. Alan gulped and tensed, ready for the fight that was bound to come. He shouldn't have kept the information from Eric, but then again, he had had no idea how to tell the blonde, either. "I can' believe yer fertile. Why didn' yer tell me?"

"Because the Doctors could be wrong. They could be going off of myths and nonsense. The books are a little bewildering and very mad sounding, and appear to have no clear direction, either."

"Aye, bu'" Eric continued, looking down at Alan. "Why would yer no' tell me? Were yer worried tha' I would be angry? It wouldn' be yer fault."

"I know," Alan replied, feeling his hands tense up into fists, "But it's probably nothing, and I didn't want you to worry about it. You honestly don't have to worry about it, Eric. I didn't mean anything by keeping it from you, but I honestly don't think that it will be a problem."

Alan was lying through his teeth, he knew, but he didn't want Eric to do anything rash. The man was known for making bad decisions over little problems, and Alan didn't want this to be another time that was like that. Somehow, though, he knew that Eric would get everything he was trying to conceal out of him. He always did, as the brunette could never resist the blonde.

"Yer lyin'," Eric said, immediately, folding his arms. "There's something yer no' tellin' me?"

"No, there isn't," Alan lied again, reaching up to hold Eric's face between his hands. "I promise."

"Yer lyin'," Eric said again, stepping back, leaving Alan to drop his arms back down to his sides and drop his head. "Yer know you can tell me anythin', don' yer?" Eric asked, face stony when Alan looked back up. "Yer shouldn' keep hidin' things from me like this."

"I promise, Eric," Alan said again, hurt spreading through him. "I promised. Didn't you hear?"

"Yer promised tha' everythin' was okay when yer go' the Thorns fer the first time, too." Eric pointed out, causing Alan to wince. He felt that one like a blow, and sighed, feeling tears rise to his eyes. The more he tried to conceal it, he realised, the larger a wedge it was going to drive between them. It was better to give the final, massive blow to the wedge, so that he would know just how much distance was driven between them by what he had to say, rather than make the gap bigger, then widen it even further by the news.

Sighing, he looked down, stealing himself, before turning back to face Eric, who was waiting, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. "The doctors said I might be pregnant."

"Wha'?" Flabbergasted, Eric looked at Alan in shock.

"The doctors said that I might be pregnant," Alan repeated, picking at some invisible thread on his cuffs, trying to keep his eyes off of Eric's face. He didn't want to see the blonde's reaction if it was a bad one. "They said that fertile males are _very_ fertile before their first pregnancy, but I'm assuming it becomes a normal, human fertility after that."

"Anythin' else I should know?" Eric asked, still not moving. Alan risked a glance at the blonde's face. He looked like he was in shock.

"I'm not getting rid of it if I am pregnant," Alan stated firmly, before looking down again. "And I'm very sorry this had to happen so soon after we got together. And I'm also sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Closing his eyes, waiting for Eric to say something that would crush him, Alan's eyes flew open in surprise when he felt the blonde's arms around him, pressing him close.

"Why would yer think yer would have to ge' rid of it?" He asked, face buried in Alan's hair. "It's ours isn' it? It should stay with us."

"B- but you said that you didn't want a family," Hesitating, Alan looked up at Eric in confusion. Had Eric saying that been a dream. "What else was I supposed to think?"

"Oh, Alan," Eric chuckled, pulling the man closer. "Yer're a silly man, aren' yer. I was lyin', 'cause I love yer, and yer seemed upse'."

Realisation and embarrassment ran through Alan in equal measures, making his face flush and his eyes widen. Burying his face into Eric's chest, he mumbled an apology, before realising that they were at work and pulling back, quickly stepping out of range of the older Reaper.

"Well, I'm glad, then," Alan nodded, neatening up his clothing and trying to get his emotions under control. He still felt fairly delicate, though not nearly as delicate as Adam had sounded when they had been introduced. That was a good thing, he supposed. "Thank you for telling me that, Eric."

He turned to go back through the door and into the office, but Eric caught his hand, eyes searching the brunette's. "Yer'll tell me if yer are pregnan', won' yer, Alan," Eric asked, a questioning gleam in his emerald eyes. "Yer won' be scared to, will yer?"

"No, Eric," Alan promised, squeezing the other's hand. "I'll tell you. Even if you do faint from shock, I promise."

"Ah, aye." Eric agreed, smiling down at the brunette Reaper. "I'll certainly do tha'. Jus' think, a little one of our own. Wouldn' tha' be something?"

"Remember," Alan pointed out, halting Eric before the man became too caught up in dreams of a family. "I might not actually be pregnant. If I'm not, there's a high possibility that I'm not even fertile, because the changes should have happened by now. This was another reason I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"Alan," Eric smiled, leaning down to kiss the brunette's cheek. "Even if yer no' pregnan', or if yer are, I'm gonnae love yer, so stop worrying so much, alrigh'?"

"Alright," Alan agreed, smiling a small smile and leaning up to kiss Eric on the cheek. Just as he was doing so, however, the door swung open, revealing Nicholas, looking at the two with wide eyes as Alan dropped down to his usual standing height again, no longer on tiptoes.

"Sorry," Nicholas muttered, blinking repeatedly from the shock. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just wanted some coffee."

With that, he walked past them, still looking fairly confused and shocked, George's cry of 'I told you so' following his back as he left. Turning to Alan, Eric smiled, dragging the brunette into the office.

"Seems to me like people have been deciding whether we're datin' or no'." He said, ignoring his large tower of paperwork completely and sitting on Alan's desk as the brunette sat down, picking up his pen instantly, the leather of his glove causing it to slip slightly in his fingers. "Shall we tell them?"

"Eric Slingby," Alan said, very seriously, his eyes fixed on the enormous pile of paperwork across the room, sat by Eric's desk. "If you do not finish your paperwork immediately, so help me you will be sleeping on the sofa tonight, after you get back from the hours of overtime you will be laboured with."

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Eric held his hands up, Alan realising what he had just said and flushing as he felt the eyes of the rest of the Reapers in the room on him. Trying very hard not to shrink into himself, Alan stared down the blonde, determined not to appear weak in any way. "Jus' promise to tell me if yer're pregnan'."

"I've already told you I will," Alan pointed out, starting on his paperwork as the blonde sat down. "So I will, just as soon as I know, which will be in a few weeks, if at all, so stop pestering me."

With that, he got back to work, thoughts of Grell and William, children and his relationship with Eric swirling through his mind. Honestly, he was getting so stressed that he wondered whether he was going to be getting any sleep for a while. Also, he realised, pausing in his work for a second. He was feeling rather hungry. He supposed that if he was pregnant, it was only going to get worse.

 **Author's Note: I'm really sorry the ending was useless! I'm not really great at them. Anyway, if you want to know how the talk with Grell went, you can find that in my story Difficult Love, chapter seven. I couldn't be bothered to write it out again from Alan's point of view, so it isn't in this story. Besides, the same conversation lots of times, considering a Ronald x OC story is on the way isn't really going to be very interesting, now, is it? Hope you enjoyed, and check back again for my next chapter!**


	10. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, nor any of the characters, just this plotline and the OCs**.

One Thousand Souls Chapter Nine

Five weeks later, Alan sat in the hospital once more, staring down at his hands. It had been a stressful morning for both him and Eric, them having woken up to find a green envelope on their carpet with their normal post. Not recognising the writing, mostly because it was typed on a typewriter, Alan had opened it curiously while Eric had made some tea for Alan and some coffee for himself. Bringing it back over, his eyes had widened as he had watched Alan go pale.

The little brunette had ran off to the bathroom for the second day running, Eric coming in after him to calm and comfort him, worry written in his eyes. The poor man had no idea what was going on with Alan's body, but Alan did. Telling Eric had been a problem though, because though he had tried to initiate the conversation to inform the blonde of what it was, or at least most likely was, he had been interrupted each time by Eric's worried ramblings of the returning Thorns and needing to find a new cure. Eventually giving up, he had just shook his head and turned away, waiting for after the hospital appointment to inform Eric of the problem, as the blonde would be more inclined to listen at that point.

Alan had also noticed his need to eat large amounts of salty items arising, recently, and a slight bit of weight being put on. There was no doubt about it, in his mind. He was pregnant. Or, at least, there shouldn't have been a doubt about it, but he could have been mistaking his being healthy and fully healed as being pregnant due to the idea having been planted in his head. Especially as he knew, after having been told by Lizbeth, that being thin felt like being hungry. Constantly.

That morning, however, the pregnancy possibility hadn't mattered to him. It was what the green letter had contained when opened, the sheet crisply folded and smelling of fresh ink. It was neatly written, with precise words and phrases, and Alan might have been impressed with the grammar and English used on it, had it not been for the content of the letter. That had been rather more threatening and unwanted, making him turn to Eric with wide eyes and a worried expression.

Unable to remember full details of the letter, small snippets swam through his mind, phrases such as ' _I am afraid that I must inform you that we have the method and means in which to put Mr Slingby to death_ ' and ' _You see, we are really rather annoyed at his being let free, even though it causes a problem for others. Therefore, we implore you to send him back to the authorities. Such a man cannot be allowed to continue existing'_. The worst one had been ' _If you don't send him back, we will send him back ourselves, we regret to inform you. He will die'_.

Fiddling with his fingers while sitting on the hospital bed, having been led to it once more by the nurses, Alan wondered what they were going to do about it. Obviously they would protect Eric. He wasn't going to live without that man. The mere idea hadn't even crossed his mind. They would have to search out the culprit, and make sure they kept the letter to prove that they were not the ones who had caused any trouble. The authorities would have to know that it wasn't them, no matter how much the evidence pointed to them. Eric was at Mr Spears' house, hoping to catch them early in the morning before they went out, because it was absolutely vital that they were given a little time off to search for the culprit. Then again, Alan realised, he would have some time later on, seeing as he was very likely pregnant. Staring blankly at his stomach, noticing how it looked to be too flat to be carrying anything, Alan sighed, waiting for the doctor and nurse that Braylen and Roger had promised to send, who were experts in male fertility.

Suddenly, just as Alan was wondering where they kept the food in the hospital, two people walked through the door, one smiling brightly, the other looking a little bored and stiff. It was likely that he was thinking that they had been called out to another false alarm by an overly cautious man who knew the rules of the pregnancy, had discovered a small change in his behaviour or body, and came worrying to the doctors once more. Alan, however, suspected that his bored look would vanish by the end of the appointment.

"Hello, Mr Humphries," the smiling woman said, checking her notes before stepping forwards and reaching out her hand. Her skin was warm in Alan's hands, even through his leather gloves, and the white of the coat she was wearing gleamed beautifully against her chocolate coloured skin. "I am Doctor Ayana Montoya. We're here for the pregnancy check-up, as I'm sure you know. Now, I can assure you that there is probably very little to worry about. Many people come to us in fear of pregnancy and end up being told that they are completely without child, so I'm sure that that calms your nerves a little."

It didn't. Alan was fairly sure that they would both be very surprised by the end of the session. Of course, they weren't aware of all the symptoms he was showing, so he let them off for the time being, finding himself distracted from the letter as he was drawn into the appointment instead.

"Hello," the man standing behind Doctor Montoya sounded just as bored as he looked. "I am Preston Hewitt, and I am the nurse. Can you tell us why you decided to come her today, and any symptoms you believe you are showing?"

"Yes," Alan responded, shifting a little and frowning, thinking back to the first time the idea of pregnancy was suggested to him, back when he had spoken to Lance. They hadn't spoken since. "Doctor Lawrence-Robinson and Nurse Lawrence-Robinson had been looking in books about the cure of the Thorns of Death, and they found some information about it. They suggested that I come back should I show any changes in a few months' time, and I have."

"And why is the Thorns of Death relevant, Mr Humphries?" Alan was honestly surprised. He thought it was well known that he had had the Thorns, especially after the scandal with Eric and the one thousand souls.

"Because I was just recently cured from it, around eight months ago now."

"Alright," Doctor Montoya nodded, looking down at her paperwork again. "That _does_ make this pregnancy seem a lot more plausible. Have you been experiencing any other symptoms, Mr Humphries?"

"Well," he began, noticing as Nurse Hewitt's eyes lit up in excitement. He had been right then. They got a lot of false alarms every two-hundred years or so. Nurse Hewitt didn't look like he had been around for the previous time, but he was likely to see false alarms in Reaper women, and it was likely that a few men had walked into the hospital for a check-up recently. Then again, Alan supposed, it was hard to tell a Reaper's age. He supposed there was just something in Nurse Hewitt's eyes that hinted at a sense of being younger than one-hundred. He didn't look so tired, Alan supposed. "I have vomited yesterday morning and this morning, and I have been putting on a little weight. Furthermore, I have been craving salt recently, though I suppose that it could be to do with the fact that I'm getting healthier."

"Hmm," Doctor Montoya said, pushing her pink glasses up her nose and sweeping her braid of black strands over one shoulder. "We'll see. I think some further tests need to be done. Preston, you help."

The brown haired man with the olive coloured skin nodded, the two of them bustling around Alan and forcing him to complete different actions so that they could take tests and readings. Finally, the two of them bustled away with different samples in pots between them, going to study them for a while, apparently. The smell of bluebells trailed away with Doctor Montoya, both of the medics leaving the room with excited smiles, a spring in each of their steps. Alan was about to close his eyes and go to sleep on the bed behind him, when he found someone blocking out his light. It was Lance.

The man was glaring moodily at him, clearly out of breath. He had the air about him of someone who was determined to tell someone off for their wrongdoings, even if that person didn't know what it was they had done wrong, and if he was in a great deal of pain. Which he was, Alan noticed. The man was almost bent double, his hair in disarray and falling down his face, limp and damp, as if he were sweating heavily. His skin was coated with a great deal of sweat, shining in the light of the room, and dark circles surrounded his eyes. He looked shaky and gaunt, and it was clear to Alan that Lance should have been resting. He had no idea why the man had come over to him. Or at least, he didn't, until the man opened his mouth.

"I hear I have some congratulations to be giving, Mr Humphries," he wheezed, leaning heavily against the bed. Quickly, Alan slipped off of it, allowing the man to sit down quickly and easily. Lance, however, didn't take the offered bed. "You and Mr Slingby move quickly."

"I'm sorry," Alan replied, moving around the bed and reaching out to hold onto Lance's arm, ready to help him onto the bed. The man looked so weak, and Alan was sure that he needed the assistance. "But I'm not quite sure what you're talking about."

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," whispered the other man, watching Alan warily. "You and Mr Slingby. I hear that you're together now. Are we to be expecting anything in the near future?"

Alan's heart gave a jolt, and he stepped away from Lance in shock. The other man had been across the room and passed out from the attack that he had suffered from. How had he known about the possible pregnancy? Well, more likely than unlikely now, it seemed, in Alan's opinion. Remembering himself, Alan reached forwards, hands wrapping around Lance's arm, guiding him towards the bed. The man seemed like he was going to fall at any second, and even though Alan knew what it felt like to be so weak, to want to be able to do things on his own, he knew that the man was going to drop to the floor like a stone if he didn't lie down soon.

"How did you know?" he whispered, trying and failing to get the blonde onto the bed. He wondered why it was that blonde people were always so hard to control. William was very calm and polite, and didn't ever need controlling. He was calm and polite and didn't need controlling. Lizbeth and Evelyn were very kind, polite and sometimes needed controlling, but they also did as asked. Evelyn was ginger, Lizbeth had auburn hair. Ronald, however, had blonde hair, and he was a nightmare to control. Eric was only controllable by Alan because the blonde loved him, and Lance, it seemed, was just as difficult. Frowning, Alan opened his mouth to say something, only to be violently shoved off by the weakened male. This meant very little to Alan, as the man had hardly enough strength to lift his arms up, let alone push a whole other Reaper from his person.

"I can do it myself," he hissed, staring at the bed as if it were an insurmountable feat. "I don't need help."

Backing off a little and raising his hands, giving Lance some space, Alan watched worriedly, stepping back over when Lance stopped his struggling to get onto the bed, instead bowing his head and panting, finally accepting Alan's offer. Alan was glad that he had, because he found that the man had no strength to help him in the task of lifting him onto the bed, and he was bigger than the small brunette, despite the emaciation caused by the Thorns eating away at his body. If he hadn't have accepted the help, Alan was fairly certain that he would have collapsed. A vague thought of a green envelope floated through his mind, and he thanked his lucky stars that the hospital visit was turning out to be much more eventful than he had originally planned, able to keep his mind off of such worrying matters as the ones that had come before him.

After a few minutes of silence, in which Alan counted the ceiling tiles to keep his mind busy, Lance spoke again.

"So, he has proposed, then?"

Turning, Alan blinked at the man lying on the bed, hair splayed out around him in a pale blonde puddle, a flush dusting his pale and gaunt cheeks.

"Sorry?" He asked, a little confused.

"That man that saved your lovely little life, he has proposed?"

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," Alan replied, tapping his gloved fingers on his knees. What was the man talking about?

"Will I be invited to your wedding, Mr Humphries?" Lance chuckled a bit at that, shifting a little now that he had his breath back, clearly wanting to be more comfortable. Alan didn't blame him. Staying still in those beds for a long time had always been a difficult feat to accomplish. "Or should I say Mr Slingby?"

"What wedding?" Alan asked, knowing his face looked just the same as it would have had someone told him that they had just found Eric dressed as a fairy in a tutu, giving out flowers and cupcakes. "And should I ever marry Eric, which I think is highly unlikely, I would become Alan Humphries-Slingby, not Alan Slingby."

"I don't think Eric would want to become Eric Humphries-Slingby, do you?" Lance smiled a little, raising his head to look at Alan, who had seated himself on another bed in the otherwise empty room. "And even if he did, it is unlikely that the marriage would last very long, no? I mean, you only got together two months ago, didn't you?"

"I have loved him for much longer than that," Alan informed him, eyes turning to train upon the door. Whatever it was that Lance was talking about, it appeared to be something completely different to what Alan first thought. Lance appeared to be labouring under the impression that Alan and Eric were to be wed. That did not sit very well with Alan. Yes, he wished to spend the rest of his immortal life with Eric, and yes, he hoped to have a family with him and love him in every possible way for the rest of forever, but the idea of being married to the man just didn't seem right. Not yet, anyway. Maybe it would feel right after a year or more, but Lance was right. They had only been together for just over two months. Getting married in that amount of time was not a very responsible or logical thing to do. There was no telling what would happen after a few more months, no matter the intentions to begin with, after all.

"That may be so," waving his hand, Lance shifted once more, before reaching up to remove his glasses, putting the silver framed items to the side. "But I still believe that you're lying. Nevertheless, would I receive an invitation to your wedding, Mr Humphries?"

"Well…" Alan could hardly give the other man an answer. From the looks of him, he was going to die within the year, possibly within the next few months, even, and it seemed to Alan wrong to promise such a thing to a person who was never _really_ going to make it anyway. He knew he wouldn't have liked to have been lied to in that situation, having been there himself.

"No matter," a small, bitter chuckle flew from Lance's throat. "I doubt I'll ever make it there, even if it is within the next two months. I'm dying, Mr Humphries. I can feel it. I can feel it like you said you could feel it before you were cured. It is horrible."

"It is a curious feeling, Mr Knight," Alan agreed, standing up and coming over to the bed. "I was always so sad, you see. I thought I would never be anyone's light, but I wanted to be. I wanted so badly to lose the loneliness that I took with me everywhere, even when I was with the one person I loved the most. Don't you have a wish that you want fulfilled, Mr Knight? I may be able to help."

Alan waited with bated breath as he stared down at the man who was staring back into his eyes, a look of shame and of anger mixed within them. Alan understood. He did. He had felt shame for so long, wishing to be something more than he was, and then not doing anything about it. Not being _able_ to do anything about it. He had been dying. To become someone's light and then rip himself away from them? That would have been so cruel, so, _so_ cruel, that he just couldn't bring himself to do it. And though he had chosen that, though he had done so willingly, he had still complained to himself about not making it to be anyone's anything. Shame filled him now, once more, but for a different reason. He had never noticed Eric's need for him.

The anger was understandable too, he knew. Anger at himself had boiled within him when he was dying with the Thorns. Anger had swirled deep within because _he_ had got himself into that mess. _He_ was the one at fault, and then he expected _others_ to help him, _others_ to pick him up when he couldn't stand, _others_ to get him to the hospital when he was on his last legs, _others_ to cheer him up and _others_ to understand. Anger had also swelled because of the uselessness he had felt. What was he good for, running around with Thorns, a liability at work, friendless save for Eric due to his own doing when he was at home? Anger and shame had been two emotions that he had felt a lot when he was dying of the Thorns, and he could understand the reason they were swelling within Lance now. The shame was for the selfishness of anyone ever having to do anything for you before you left, and the anger came from even having to make a last request in the first place. Gaze soft, though not pitying, Alan waited for Lance's answer.

Finally, a few seconds later, Lance having stared into Alan's eyes for longer than the brunette was comfortable with, though he had refused to look away, Lance spoke again.

"I have just one thing to ask of you, Mr Humphries," he mumbled, a flush rising to his cheeks, though it was pale, barely there. "Have a good life with your family while you can. Something is bound to come and ruin it eventually."

He closed his eyes, pulling the blankets around him, before his eyes lit up and he reached up, his bare hands fiddling with something at the back of his neck. Quickly, they returned before him, this time clasping a silver chain with a ring upon it, a diamond embedded in it. The band was lovely, smooth, elegant and silver, and looked as if it were expensive. Holding his hand out towards Alan, he gestured that the brunette should take it, smiling a little when dropping it into his hands.

"Take this, please," he yawned then, a few tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes as they squeezed up.

"What is it?" Alan breathed, reaching out for it and hearing the soft scraping of the silver chain upon his dry leather gloves. "Why would you give it to me?"

"It is an engagement ring I bought for someone the week before I was diagnosed with the Thorns. I always thought that I was going to marry her, and we would be happy, but… well, that never happened, did it?" He chuckled then, slowly and humourlessly. "I think… I think I want you to have it, Mr Humphries. I think it would do you good."

"I couldn't take it, Mr Knight," Alan whispered, looking down at the delicate jewellery in his hands. "It's far too precious to do that. It belongs to you."

"Yes, it does, and it always will," the blonde replied, holding back yet another yawn. "But you will carry it around. I want it to remind you…"

He trailed off, before taking a deep breath and starting again.

"I want it to remind you that nothing ever goes the way you think it will, and nothing ever lasts for eternity."

It felt like a blow to Alan's stomach, and he frowned down at it, wondering why the blonde thought he would wear something that gave him so much doubt and sadness to dwell upon.

"But-" his attention was pulled back towards the blonde. "I would also like it to serve as a reminder to you to enjoy every day as it comes, even if you are no longer at Death's door, so to speak."

Looking down at it again, Alan fiddled with it a little, before slipping his gloves off and fastening it around his neck, fingers dancing over it as he tucked it within his shirt. The cool of the metal bit into the skin of his chest, but he didn't complain, though he did wonder how it could possibly be so cold, having sat against the other man's chest for so long. Shrugging it off, Alan slipped his gloves back on and turned to face Lance once more, the man wearing the smallest of smiles on his face.

"Thank you," he said, eyes drooping closed. "But in all seriousness, no matter what Alan, please, remember what I said to you today. I really do want you to be happy. You deserve it. We all deserve happiness, don't we?"

His cool hand was gripping Alan's wrist firmly, surprising Alan, considering how tired the man was. Watching with soft eyes, Alan spent twenty minutes in silence, thinking about all the man had had to say and about the outcome of his relationship with the woman. Was she still out there, he wondered? Were they still friends? Did they still love each other? Did he have someone there for him when he needed it? Or was he left alone all day, to face the eternity of death alone?

When Lance's hand went limp and fell away from Alan's wrist, Alan finally stepped back and to the bed on the far side of the room, thoughts still spinning as he counted the tiles on the ceiling once more, feeling as if he had just come out of a great misunderstanding. No matter the reason for his uneasiness, Alan couldn't help but to feel a connection with the man. Sighing, he looked at the blonde figure on the bed once more, and wondered if they would ever meet again, of it if would be the last time. Leaning his head against the wall, he waited for Doctor Montoya and Nurse Hewitt to return.

….

"Good news," Doctor Montoya beamed as she strode through the door, Lance not stirring on the bed, too deep in slumber to hear her.

"Or bad, depending on how you look at it," Nurse Hewitt interjected, also wearing a smile. Alan turned to look at their grinning faces and felt a strange feeling wash over him. The simple fact that they were smiling told him everything he needed to know, really.

"You _are_ pregnant," Doctor Montoya giggled, flicking her dark plait over her shoulder. "Isn't that wonderful?"

The simple confirmation made nerves and warmth flood through Alan in equal parts. Nerves because this was going to be his first time at being a parent. What if he was awful? What if Eric was awful? What if the baby hated him? He felt nerves eating at him about having to tell Eric too. He knew Eric was prepared to have a baby with him, but he knew the blonde would worry that the Thorns would return because of this change, and he knew that the blonde would be far too overprotective and possibly very annoying. Furthermore, that meant that he had to hand his new students over to somebody, and seeing as Grell was pregnant herself, and Eric would likely be taking a day a week off, Jorge and Jose were going to be finding themselves with a lot of pressure put upon them. And then there was the threats... The baby might end up growing up in a world in which nothing was particularly nice for it.

Then again, his excitement and happiness outweighed those issues after a few seconds, though. He would have a little baby, something that was his own or Eric's. It might be blonde and stubborn like Eric, or it might be polite and brunette like him. Or the little darling might be a mixture of both… what if she had hair like Ronald's? The thought was enough to spark a smile in Alan, and he felt his lips twitching upwards and his eyes gaining a sparkle, just as the smiles fell on the doctor and nurses' faces.

"If you want to get rid of it," Doctor Montoya said carefully and stiffly, clearly not liking the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Then now would be the time. Before the foetus is too big, and you cannot remove it."

"However, if you wish to keep it," Nurse Hewitt said, a hopeful look on his face, "There are some facts that you are going to need to know."

"Yes?" Alan asked, head turning towards the olive skinned man. The beam returned to both medic's faces. "Of course I do not want to get rid of it. It's mine, isn't it?"

"Yes," both nodded, faces serious. "Or, more commonly, they're yours."

"'They're'?" Alan questioned, before remembering something that Grell had said a few weeks ago. She had said that fertile males usually gave birth to more than one at a time, anywhere up to five children. That sort of birthing would kill a human, or leave them very weak, Alan knew, but Reapers were a lot more resilient and stronger than a human, so they could cope with the strain it would put on their body. It would only seem as bad as a normal birth to twins for a human, when a Reaper gave birth to five.

"Yes," Nurse Hewitt said, shifting his weight, before going on to tell Alan many facts that he already knew. For example, he was told about the five children at a time rule, and the rule that stated that throughout his lifetime, he would have thirteen children. That seemed like a bit much to him, to be honest, but he had no choice. It was part of Agatha Bloodworth's curse, after all. Thirteen children must be born, unless the 'mother' dies.

"All the children are fraternal," Doctor Montoya continued, listing off rules on her fingers. "If not, _each_ egg in the womb splits, and you have multiple twins. It is very bad for the 'mother', as it causes great strain on the body, and can leave all of the children ill, or kill them, and it can kill or leave the 'mother' critically ill. Let us hope that that does not happen to you, Mr Humphries."

"It has happened once before to a Reaper named Lucius Butler once, while he had four fertilised eggs within the womb. He survived, and so did the children, but there are a few stories of it happening with less children and the 'mother' dying, leaving the children and the father alone, or the children dying, causing it to be a very stressful time for the 'mother' and father."

Alan folded his arms across his belly, hoping that no such thing ever occurred to the babies he was carrying. Him lying on his death bed he could handle, as he still wasn't quite used to the idea of not being dying. He had been free from the Thorns for around eight months, and although he hadn't had an attack in all that time, it still felt like he should and would once more. His brain was playing tricks on him, he knew, because the doctors kept telling him his body was clear of any sign of the Thorns, and he had dug the Original out of his body and dropped it on the bed, though Eric hadn't known that. Eric held so much fear about the disease returning because he never realised Alan had taken away what would ultimately cause them again. He really should tell Eric about that, he supposed.

However, even if he could imagine himself dying, he could not imagine ever letting anything that he birthed to die. Though he had literally only just been told that he was 'no doubt about it' pregnant, he felt very protective all of a sudden, even though the idea didn't seem to be particularly real. He felt as if he were in a dream. Pregnant. He was pregnant. With a baby. A _baby_. Something he had apologised to Eric for, for never being able to give the blonde a family, and now he would have one with his love.

A smile rose to his lips once more. No matter what, he realised, this was going to be special. They would deal with all the threats and the danger, and they would pull through, as a unit, because they were going to be _parents_. _Parents_. After a few more minutes, in which Alan was informed about the rules, Nurse Hewitt and Doctor Montoya said he was good to go, but to come back for an appointment in a few weeks' time, just to make sure that nothing went wrong. Agreeing, Alan smiled tentatively at them, before walking out of the door, hearing their excited whispers as he left.

Though a smile still covered his face, unable to be stopped due to the fact that he was carrying another inside of him now, Alan felt worry eating at him. There was so much going on that was worrying him in his life all of a sudden. There was the fact that some unknown person was threatening them, then there was the fact that he had some sort of misunderstanding with Lance Knight. He was going to have to explain the presence of the ring on the chain around his neck to Eric, now, and he was going to have to get his juniors to be taken on by another Reaper. He needed to try to work out who was behind the anonymous threats towards Eric, and somehow, though he had absolutely no idea how he was going to manage it. The blonde was either going to freak out, as he appeared to have forgotten the possibility within the five or so weeks since the conversation with Grell, or he was going to jump to the conclusion that Alan had the Thorns again. Sighing, Alan shook his head, nearing the exit to the hospital and readying himself to walk into the tangled mess of things that he needed to clear up.

Taking a deep breath, the small brunette squared his shoulders and walked outside. He was ready for this. Especially if it meant that he could keep his new little family together.

 **Author's Note: Sorry the start of this chapter is so bad. I started it yesterday, but was so tired I just gave up. I'm honestly scared to look over it, in case it causes me some sort of brain-melt or something. I also apologise for having nothing in Eric's point of view for a while. I will try and find a place where it would make sense to be in his POV soon.**

 **Honestly, though, I don't know what happened in this chapter. It was supposed to be a happy bit about Alan's pregnancy and an intriguing bit that built up the plot for the rest of the story, but then a really sad and deep bit sprung out of nowhere with Lance. I'm honestly didn't know I had it in me. I guess it's because I was reading on the bus today, and then a massive bucket-full of water just fell through the ceiling onto my book and ruined one of my favourite books that I got a few Christmases ago, and I suddenly realised that nothing lasts forever (I care more for books than other humans, generally). Anyway, I'm rambling… Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	11. Chapter Ten

**Author's Note: I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while, anyone who was waiting! I was a little busy being yelled at for no good reason by pretty much everyone I know on Thursday, and I was tired of Wednesday, and then my friend came over yesterday, and I fell asleep on her, so I couldn't write then. Anyway, I'm writing now!** **Oh, and I'm finally doing some more from Eric's POV!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler! Yana Toboso does.

One Thousand Souls Chapter Ten

Eric groaned and rolled over, hand stretching out to locate his little brunette. No matter how far he stretched, however, the smaller man wasn't there, even when Eric's hand went over the edge of the bed and into the cool air. Hissing, he rolled over, wondering if the other Reaper was behind him, but… no. He wasn't there either. Then Eric remembered why. His little lover was probably in the bathroom once again, throwing up his guts. He had done that for the previous four mornings at around five o'clock, and it seemed that the pattern was continuing. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

Reluctant to go into the cold morning air, but determined not to let Alan be alone, Eric threw the covers back, wincing at the chill that caused his skin to grow little bumps. Shivering, he walked over to the door and unhooked his dressing gown, wearing it over the cotton trousers that were crumpled up around his knees. Opening the door, Eric stepped out onto the cold wooden floor and gritted his teeth, before turning back into the bedroom and finding the slippers that Alan had bought him. He never wore them, really, as the heating was on by the time he woke up, but recently he had found that he needed them. The floor really was icy at five o'clock in the morning.

Just as he rounded the corner of the hallway that led to the bathroom, Eric came face to face with Alan, the poor man looking a little shaky. His eyes widened as if he was going to say something to Eric, but then he closed his mouth and looked down again, shifting nervously. Gently, Eric reached out and pulled him close, before leading him back to the bedroom.

"Come on," he murmured, stroking the brunette's hair, noticing how sweet the little man looked without his glasses on. "Le's go back ter bed. We still have hours 'til we need to ge' up."

"Okay," Alan agreed, yawning and leaning his head against Eric. "But when we get up, I need something salty to eat, okay?"

"Are yer sure tha's a good idea?" Eric blinked at the little man. How could he think of eating after having just thrown his guts up? "Yer've jus' been pukin', after all."

"Trust me, Eric," Alan yawned, going over to the bed and slipping under the covers. "I need to eat more than you think."

Staring at the little brunette for a few seconds, then shrugging and pulling off his dressing gown and slippers, Eric wondered what could possibly be wrong. He did vaguely remember a conversation that they had had a few months ago about pregnancy, but as Alan had said, that was all stuff and nonsense, wasn't it? Besides, Alan wasn't pregnant. He wasn't showing any of the symptoms. Then again, what _were_ the symptoms?

They were unlikely to be whatever it was that Alan was going through now, and Eric could only think of one thing when he crawled back into bed with the smaller Reaper. The Thorns. It seemed plausible to him as he dragged the little man into his arms. He had been quieter than usual, and appeared to look more worried. He was throwing up, which often meant contamination of a foreign item within the body… the Thorns were foreign, and Alan had thrown up before he had his first attack last time, too, though the doctors had said at the time that it was more to do with the food poisoning than the Thorns. That didn't mean that the Thorns didn't have some sort of play in it, did it?

Furthermore, Alan was eating more now, as if he was trying to put on weight. Was he trying to build his strength up because he knew they were back? Was the reason he kept opening and closing his mouth at Eric, as if he were going to say something, due to the fact that he didn't know how to tell the blonde Reaper that he had contracted the Thorns again? Fear bit at Eric, and he pulled Alan closer, burying his head into the brown locks of the other, sighing in pleasure at the smell of the fresh soap Alan had used only the night before.

Glancing up, Eric noticed that it was around half-past five. They had two or so hours before they had to get up, so he tried to close his eyes and get some more sleep, though he doubted it was going to come. He had too much to worry about – Alan, the letter, searching for the culprit – there was too much to do. Growling lightly in his throat, Eric rolled over, pulling the blankets with him and receiving an outraged cry from the little man next to him. Rolling over, Eric saw that he had left Alan with only a thin pair of pyjamas on out in the cold, and smiling sheepishly, he offered the blankets back to him.

Alan took them and settled them over the both of them, before turning to Eric and reaching up to hold onto his cheek. Turning his cheek into Alan's hand, Eric flicked his eyes to meet the other's, wondering what the other was going to say.

"Are you having trouble going back to sleep, Eric?" Alan asked, looking a little concerned. "You need to stop worrying and get some rest. You can worry during the day, okay? I know there's a lot to worry about."

"I know," Eric nodded, lying down again, and watching as Alan did the same, dragging himself over to the blonde and nestling himself against Eric's chest. "I jus' can' stop worryin' abou' everythin'. You, the letter, work."

"Me?" Alan asked, looking a little confused. "Eric, you have nothing to worry about. I'm fine, and I will continue to be fine. Worry about the letter, certainly, and the juniors, but don't worry about me."

"Wha' do yer mean, don' worry abou' yer?" Eric asked, furrowing his brows. "Yer throw up every mornin' and yer sleepin' more and eatin' more and yer won' tell me wha's wrong."

"I will tell you, Eric," Alan yawned, blinking tiredly. "I promise. I will when I find the words. Just stop worrying. It's nothing bad, and I'm tired. Can we just go back to sleep? Please?"

"Okay," Eric relinquished the argument, instead opting for closing his eyes and burying his nose into the other Reaper's shoulder. "Bu' yer really do have to tell me, alrigh'?"

Alan nodded and hummed, the movements felt against Eric's chest. Sighing, he stroked Alan's back for a while, falling asleep himself not long after, though his thoughts were still swirling around his head in disarray. The only comfort he had was the brunette still in his arms, and the warmth of the sheets as they surrounded him.

…..

"Eric, Eric, wake up," Alan was shaking his shoulder, but Eric was definitely not in the mood to wake up. Growling softly, he rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head. He had been having a pleasant dream where he had been lying in the sun in a meadow, but it seemed that now Alan wanted him to wake up to the cold, dark mornings of winter. "Eric, if you don't wake up within the next two seconds, I will hit you with a slipper."

Eric was fairly certain that would have been more threatening if Alan had said death scythe, but he got the idea, so he slowly sat up and blinked blearily at his worried looking bunny rabbit and slipped his glasses on, stretching and yawning noisily, hoping to show Alan that he wasn't very pleased with the rude awakening.

"Eric, come on," Alan grumbled, looking annoyed now. "It's very important."

"Wha' is?"

"The hallway window is open," Alan began, heading towards the doorway now that Eric was up on his feet.

"S'tha's why it's so blood cold," Yawning again, Eric padded after Alan, careful to remember his slippers and robe this time around. "Yer could jus' shu' it, yer know. There's no need to wake me like this."

"Oh, wake up," Alan snapped, facing Eric again. "The problem is that I didn't leave the window open last night, and neither did you, and unless you opened it while I was sleeping just a few minutes ago, neither of us opened it this morning, either."

Blinking at Alan's snappish tone, Eric frowned and blinked, willing himself to wake up and process thoughts a bit faster than he was. Padding towards the window, he glanced back at Alan, raising an eyebrow and wondering why the little brunette was in such a mood.

"Did it blow open in the wind?" He asked, reaching it and looking at the sill, only to notice that the lock was popped off and laying on the floor at his feet. Shaking his head, he bent down and sighed. "Clearly no'. We've had an intruder, Alan."

"I know," Alan's arms were folded, and he was tapping one of his feet, still wearing a scowl. "That's why I'm so worried."

"And wha' do yer wan' me to do abou' it?" Eric asked, sticking his head through the window to see if he could pick up any clues. There was nothing there. It smelt like snow and cold air, and the prints on the outside of the house were gone, if there were ever any there. No scent of demon or angel lingered, which Eric hoped was a good sign. That meant that the intruder was only a Shinigami, and not someone that shouldn't even be in their realm at all. "I can' call 'em back ter me and shor' of fixin' the window, there's nothin' ter be done."

"I don't know, alright, Eric," Alan snapped once more, causing Eric to look at him in confusion. What was his problem this morning? "All I know is that the window is wide open when it shouldn't be, and the draws in the office are torn apart. I can't help it if I can't tell you more than that."

"The draws in the office are torn apar'?" Eric repeated, worry creeping over him. He had originally thought that it was a misguided attempt to try to steal something valuable that they were keeping within their home, in which case the intruder would fail, as the only valuable thing in the house was currently being worn around Alan's neck, and belonged to Lance Knight. Now, however, it seemed as if something else was the target. But what? "Was there anythin' missin'?"

Alan's eyes widened and he dropped his vaguely aggressive stance in favour of a confused one.

"I… I don't know," He murmured, turning and heading off in the opposite direction, heading towards the study. "I didn't think to check."

Following after him, Eric entered the room just behind Alan and saw that the little man had been right. The room had been torn apart. The large window wall across from them was showing a clear view of the snow outside, and all seemed peaceful there, but within the room was a different matter. The books and folders that were usually so neatly organised on the snowy bookcases on the right wall of the room were thrown across the floor, creating an obstacle course on the black laminate flooring. The green lampshade on the low-hanging light by the left window-wall was hanging crooked, and the other lamp was thrown on the floor, its bulb smashed across the floor and leaving glass shattered in its wake. The grey rug was rumpled and the draws in the desk were open, paper spewing from them all over the floor.

Carefully, Alan walked in, only stopped when Eric held him back and pointed out that he had nothing on his feet. The blonde had no idea how he could walk like that. The floor was ice. Venturing further than Alan, Eric quickly scooped up the glass and put it into the black wicker bin. He knew that should Alan cut himself on the glass it wouldn't hurt a great deal, and it would soon heal, but he didn't want to risk anything with the strange state that Alan was in.

Turning around, he noticed that Alan had ventured into the danger zone himself, and was pawing through the crumpled and shredded documents, looking to see if one was missing. Whoever had been in the room certainly hadn't made it easy for them to see what was missing. Sighing, they both got to work searching and putting the room to rights, knowing it wasn't going to be an easy job, and would take a great deal of their morning up before they had to go to work. Sighing, Eric straightened up.

"Alan, love," he asked, cautiously, not wanting to risk any more of Alan's curious anger. "I'm goin' ter make yer some tea and somethin'… salty, was it? I'll be back in a minute. Yer jus' carry on workin', alrigh'?"

Alan nodded, a frantic and panicked look on his face, and Eric slipped out of the room, worried about his little brunette. The smaller man was going through some sort of odd mood-swing issue, going from normal to angry to scared. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thing to deal with, and Eric wondered what was causing it.

Walking over to the black cupboards in the kitchen, their wooden doors standing out against the white of the walls, Eric opened one, reaching in for coffee for him and tea for Alan. Slippers sliding against the shiny wooden floor, Eric filled the kettle up on the sink and heated it on the stove, humming to himself and tapping his foot as he watched the snow falling from outside the large windows, one literally joining another in the corner of the wall, another on the other side of the sink, tall and thin.

When the kettle was finally boiled, Eric brought it over to the orange mugs on the counter and poured the water in, before bending down to look for salty foods as the beverages brewed. Unable to find anything particularly salty – unable to find food, really – Eric sighed and stood up, quickly cutting four slices of bread and toasting them, butter added to them when done. Alan had cooked the loaf yesterday, and they were going to have it for breakfast this morning, it seemed.

Loading all the items onto a tray, Eric wondered how Alan was doing in the office. He appeared to be being very quiet. Slowly, making sure not to spill any of the hot drinks, Eric ascended the stairs with the tray, making it to the study with relative ease. There, after nudging the door with his tray, he found a very pale looking Alan sitting on the floor, the office tidy around him. Of course he could put the room back to rights so quickly. He was a very quick worker, after all, though Eric had never known him to look so pale after working before.

Setting the tray down on the desk, Eric picked up the tea and handed it to his love, crouching down beside him to rub his back.

"Wha's wrong, Alan?" Eric asked quietly, fingers running along the delicate ridge of Alan's spine. "Wha' have yer found?"

"You're not going to like this," Alan murmured, looking up at the older Shinigami with wide eyes. "In fact, you're going to hate this. The letter. That's what's missing."

"The letter?" Eric asked, blanking out for a moment. "What letter?"

"The green one." Alan clarified, pushing himself up to his feet. "The threatening one. It's gone."

"Bu' Alan," Eric soothed, pushing the mug into Alan's open hands and watching as the brunette's fingers curled around them. "While tha' is a problem, I admi', I'm no' all tha' bothered by it."

"How could you say that?"

"Well, nothin' has really come from it, and it's been a few days now, righ'?"

"Yes," Alan agreed, sipping at his tea. "But we still needed it, just in case something did happen and we needed to prove our case."

"Bu' it could have been interpreted against us, too," Eric pointed out, taking a bite of his toast and chewing on it. "I say stop worryin' abou' it and go and ge' ready fer work. We have ter go in twenty minutes."

"But Eric-" Alan interrupted, only to find himself cut off by Eric again.

"No, Alan," he said firmly, sipping at his coffee and relishing in the warmth it brought to his system. "I don' wan' to talk abou' this anymore. If we're goin' ter talk abou' anythin', it's goin' ter be the reason behind your moods this mornin'."

"And I don't want to talk about that, Eric," Alan argued, taking another gulp of his tea and heading towards his room. "I accept that you cannot accept that the letter was important, but I will not accept the fact that you think I have the Thorns, or whatever else it is you have stuck in your head this time."

"I don' have anythin' stuck in my head," Eric growled, watching as the brunette walked through the doorway. "I jus' worry abou' yer."

He heard a small sigh flow through the doorway, and then a small voice following after it.

"I know you do Eric," it said, sounding a little upset, but also a little relieved. "I just wish you would accept that I am no longer going to die. I have, after all."

"Some of us have to be cautious," Eric murmured, finishing his tea as he watched the snow fall outside, worried thoughts about his little lover still winding through his head.

….

Eric sat at his desk and sighed loudly, causing Adam, George, Nicholas and Tyler to look up at him, though Alan stayed working at his desk, not bothering to turn to the other Reaper. Eric was bored, and worried, and fed-up that the brunette wouldn't tell him what was wrong. He had been secretive since the doctor appointment two days ago, and he had been looking for Grell the day before, though they couldn't find her. Apparently it had been Grell and William's day off, and they had been in town, shopping.

Finally, annoyance setting in, Eric stood, throwing his pen down onto the desk, and allowing his chair to rock back, hearing it fall back onto all of its legs as he stalked towards the door, grabbing Alan's arm in the process and pulling the brunette gently, but firmly, out of his chair. Having caught the brunette, though he was struggling a little, Eric dragged them towards the break room and locked the door, turning towards the brunette with a scowl. He didn't want to be mean or nasty to the smaller man, but sometimes it was necessary to get the other to speak.

"I wan' to know why yer throwin' up each mornin'," he began, folding his arms and leaning against a counter, Alan watching him warily. "And I wan' to know why yer so moody and delicate all of a sudden. Is it the Thorns? Have they returned?"

"Don't be silly," Alan replied, coming closer to the other Reaper. "It's something very different from that. I just… I don't know how to tell you. I have tried, Eric. For the last two days, I have been trying to tell you. I was looking for Grell because I think that she might be able to help me say what I need to say, but… Well, I'm just going to have to say it now, aren't I?"

A little prickle of dread was running through Eric. What Alan was trying to say, it sounded almost like a breakup. Nervously, he looked down at the other Reaper, wondering what it was that Alan was going to say.

"Please tell me yer no' gonnae break up with me," Eric whispered, watching as the brunette came close enough to rest his head on the blonde Reaper's chest, should he so wish. "I don' think I can handle tha', Alan."

"That's good," Alan replied, eyebrows furrowed, a sad look in his eyes. "Because I'm not going to break up with you. I'm sorry if I've made you feel like I'm going to. I know I've been distant for the last few days, and I know that I'm moody and tearful at the moment, but don't for one second, not even one, Eric, think that I am going to break up with you. It isn't going to happen. Not ever. I'd leave, if you asked me, but I wouldn't willingly break up with you. I'd do anything to keep you happy, so please, put a smile back on your lips."

"Alrigh'," Eric said, frowning more. "I wasn' expectin' tha' as the answer. Tha's good ter know. Bu' I want yer ter know tha' I wouldn' send yer away, alrigh'? Though tha' still doesn' answer my question. I know wha' yer've been like. I wannae know why."

"Well…" Alan began, leaning his head against Eric's chest and sounding a little nervous. "You remember that conversation we had a few weeks ago? The one after we visited Grell's office?"

"The one abou' pregnancy? I remember."

"Well," Alan fidgeted nervously, fingers tapping against Eric's chest. "Do you remember what I said?"

"Tha' yer migh' be able ter ge' pregnan'." Eric replied, still unsure as to where this was going. Alan wasn't saying what he thought he was saying, was he? No. He couldn't be. "Wha' of it?"

"Well…" Finally, looking up, Alan searched Eric's eyes, Eric knowing that he would find only confusion. "It seems that I was already pregnant at the time I told you that, if these last few days are anything to go by."

Eric stared down at the little brunette for a moment, feeling laughter bubbling up in his chest. Surely the little man was pulling his leg. There was absolutely no way that he could be pregnant. Eric never knew that Alan liked to play tricks.

Chuckling, Eric felt his lips twitch up into a smirk. "Tha's a good one. Yer good. Yer pretty good at this, I tell yer."

"I don't understand." Alan murmured, eyebrows furrowing. "Why are you laughing, Eric?"

"'Cause I think the prank yer jus' pulled was funny?" Eric asked, feeling his own eyebrows furrow. "Yer go' all the mood swings and the cravin's and everythin'!"

"Eric-"

"Bu' wha' were yer throwin' up then? I could have sworn I saw yer be sick…"

"Eric-"

"Seriously, Alan," Eric was starting to get worried. Alan looked truly serious. If he really was truly serious, Eric knew, that would mean that Alan really was pregnant. But Eric didn't know the first thing about being a father. He didn't know what to do. He was good with children, but they weren't his children. He didn't have to change their nappies or dress them or feed them. What would he do with real children? "How did you do it?"

"Eric Slingby," Alan snapped, pushing away from Eric's chest. "Would you just shut up and listen for a minute?"

Eric stopped talking and blinked, staring down at Alan.

"I was throwing up actual sick, and the mood swings are real and controlled by hormones, and I'm craving actual salty foods, because I am _actually_ pregnant. They said so at the hospital." Alan said slowly, eyes connected with Eric's, making sure the blonde understood. "Now, would you please stop laughing and understand?"

Eric stared at Alan in open-mouthed shock for a few seconds, mulling his thoughts over. Alan was really pregnant? They had diagnosed it at the hospital? That meant that Eric was really going to be a father, which meant that… It meant that he was going to have a _baby_. And while that was scary, he knew, he also realised that it was going to be brilliant. It was going to be a little tiny being that was part of him and part of Alan, and it was going to be so small and delicate, and it would love him and Alan unconditionally, just as they would love it and each other. The tiny thing would complete their family, and Eric suddenly realised that for all his fear of being an awful father, the idea of having a baby seemed to blow it all out of the water for a few minutes.

Slowly, but surely, a smile spread across Eric's face.

"Really?" He asked, reaching out to hold Alan's face in his hands. "A babby? Yer've go' a wee little 'un in yer?"

"Yes," Alan nodded, biting his lip and looking up at Eric in what could only be described as anticipation. "I have one or more babies in my stomach right now. How… How does tha' make you feel?"

"Scared," Eric admitted, noticing Alan's wince. Smiling a little, he pulled the brunette towards him and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Bu' also very happy. On top of the world. A little mix of me and yer in there. Isn' it jus' a wonderful thing ter think of?"

He gestured to Alan's stomach, before pulling the brunette closer and pecking him on the lips.

"You're not angry?" Alan asked, reaching up to hold Eric's cheek. The blonde shook his head.

"Of course no'," he murmured, bending down as Alan stood on tip-toes, allowing their noses to brush. "Bu' tell me why yer didn' tell me earlier."

"Did you miss your reaction just now?" Alan asked in a whisper, his breath curling with Eric's.

"Fair enough," Eric murmured, lips touching Alan's now, moving across his in a tickling dance. "Bu' if somethin' like this happens again, yer goin' to tell me straigh' away, alrigh'?"

"That could be up to twelve more times," Alan replied, eyebrows crinkled again. "I have to have thirteen children from now until the rest of forever, though they usually come in twins and triplets, sometimes in quadruplets and fives, and sometimes, rarely, all on their own."

"Thirteen?" Eric asked, remembering that Grell had said something similar to that a few months ago. "Bu' how are we mean' to think of tha' many names? We'll end up namin' them somethin' like Richard One, Richard Two, or somethin'."

"No child of mine is being called Richard," Alan murmured, stroking the blonde strands of hair at the back of Eric's neck. "But I'm glad you're okay with these facts. I love you, Eric."

"I know," Eric replied, smiling, before leaning in to connect their lips. "And I love you too."

Soon, their lips were moving together and Alan's hands were in Eric's hair, his legs around Eric's waist as the blonde had lifted him up and placed him on the counter, allowing himself easier access to the brunette's lips. Alan's height was adorable, but he was certainly very hard to reach. Smelling the scent of fresh soap and ink upon Alan, Eric smiled and hummed, tongue, teeth and lips intertwining with Alan's. The little brunette appeared to have forgotten where they were, as he would never have allowed this to happen at work.

Suddenly, Eric found himself being pushed back by a breathless, annoyed brunette.

"I told you that I don't kiss in public, Eric," Alan fumed, leaning his head against the blonde's chest and flushing, causing the blonde to chuckle a little and inform him that they weren't in public. "Or at work."

He checked his watch. "Besides, it's lunchtime, and I, for one, would like something to eat."

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Eric held his hands up, backing away with a smile and allowing the small brunette to hop down off of the table. "I'm sorry. Am I forgiven?"

Alan looked at him for a few seconds, then smiled slightly. "I suppose. Just don't try something like that again, okay, Eric?"

"Aye, boss," Eric mock saluted, smirking as Alan shook his head, before following the brunette out of the now unlocked door, thoughts spinning.

Yes, he decided, he was excited about the fact that Alan was carrying a baby, but he was also terrified, and he certainly needed time to adjust to the fact. Shaking his head, he knew he was still a little pale looking, and he was certainly ready for some lunch to give him back some of his strength. He was going to need a lot of time to come to grips with the fact that Alan was pregnant… And there was still that break-in to worry about, wasn't there? Sighing, Eric grabbed Alan's hand and squeezed it, before dropping it quickly, knowing that the brunette wouldn't approve.

"Maybe yer'll find Grell and she can help yer, now," Eric teased, watching as Alan shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You know full well, Mr Slingby, that I no longer need Grell to help me." He replied, eyes glinting happily.

"True," Eric admitted, smirking. "Bu' now you have some interestin' information of yer own, don' yer?"

Alan looked at Eric for a few seconds, and then held out his hand, which was a very rare gesture. Surprised, Eric took it, receiving a quick squeeze of the fingers.

"It's our news, Eric," Alan replied, and Eric felt his face stretch wider. Yes, he decided, it was their news, no matter what was going to happen from then on.

 **Author's Note: So, I feel like this chapter was written badly, but I honestly can't stop sneezing and scratching my eyes. I'm pretty certain I'm allergic to something in my house. Furthermore, the talk with Grell over lunch can be found in Difficult Love. Once more I am just too lazy to rewrite the scene. Hope you enjoyed, and check back soon.**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, just this storyline and the OCs. Hope you enjoy!**

One Thousand Souls Chapter Eleven

Alan and Eric had walked into work the next day, knowing that they needed to talk to William. It was likely going to take a while, Alan had known, and William was busy first thing in the morning, so Alan went to William just after lunch to talk to him. Eric had a half-day, so was going to meet with Alan soon to help talk to their boss about the pregnancy and therefore the work that was going to have to be stopped for Alan. Standing outside of William's door, though, Alan couldn't help but wonder if he really needed to tell William. Grell and he were a happy couple now, and they actually confided in one another, despite the way that they seemed to grate against each other's nerves. Shouldn't Grell, being such a talkative gossip, have told William about the little matter they had discussed the day before?

Then again, he realised, if Grell had told William, shouldn't William have come to see him earlier? He didn't know, but he supposed he was going to find out soon enough. Having eaten a large, salty lunch, Alan raised his hand and knocked on the wooden door, before stepping back and waiting to be called into the room, wondering why he couldn't hear Grell's annoyed or excited voice due to interruptions, which had come each time he had knocked on the door since she had been sharing William's office.

"Come in," William called through the wood, leaving Alan to push the door open gently.

"Good afternoon, Mr Spears," Alan said, pacing forwards and taking a seat when he was offered one. It seemed that Grell wasn't in the room, which would explain why she never reacted to his knock. "I need to talk to you for a few minutes, if that is alright?"

"Of course, Mr Humphries," William allowed, placing his pen down next to the document before him and folding his fingers together on the table, looking at Alan sternly through his glasses. "What can I do for you?"

"I went to the hospital last Saturday, and I was told something that will prevent me from doing any field work for a while," Alan started, looking down when he felt William's gaze become penetrating. "I came to inform you, so you would know."

"I see," glancing down at his hands, the other man paused for a moment, before speaking again. "Forgive me for seeming unthoughtful, but have the Thorns returned? If so, we can arrange something, Mr Humphries."

"Oh, no," Alan waved William off, assuring him that he was fine health-wise. "Nothing like that. I just appear to have gained a few changes from the cure to the Thorns that were very unexpected, and have sprung up only recently. I'm surprised Miss Sutcliff hasn't already told you, to be honest, Sir."

"And why is that, Mr Humphries?" Rather than sounding annoyed, as Alan would have expected, due to the rumours that were going around about the defence that William put up for Grell, he sounded interested. Blinking, Alan flushed a little, before looking down and fiddling with his hands in his lap.

"It is due to the fact that Miss Sutcliff does rather love to gossip, and I told her the reason last lunch time. I would have thought you would have heard the news by now, is all." Taking a deep breath, Alan looked up and met William's gaze head-on with his own. "I informed her yesterday that I was pregnant, you see?"

"Pregnant?" Disbelievingly, William raised an eye-brow. Everyone couldn't just start falling pregnant, could they? There was a man up in Scotland, there was Grell, and now it seemed that Alan was following in these footsteps. It seemed that William was going to need proof. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Alan nodded, cheeks flushing a little. "I went for a check-up, but Doctor and Nurse Lawrence-Robinson told me about a side-effect, which was to make the male a fertile male, and a female just as fertile, if not more so, than a human."

"That is hardly proof, Mr Humphries," William interrupted, not unkindly. "They told you that it was possible, not that it has happened."

"They told me that I am last Saturday," Alan replied, looking down. "Doctor Montoya and Nurse Hewitt can tell you so, if you wish to call upon them. I'm honestly pregnant, and not trying to drop out of work for a period."

"I never suspected you would be, Mr Humphries," William replied, cheeks tinged just a little bit. "You are one of the best workers in this building, and I would be very surprised and disappointed if I found that you were lying to get out of having to work."

"Thank you, Sir," Alan replied, not entirely sure of what else to say. Deciding it needed to be done, Alan looked up again. "I know I am asking you for a lot, seeing as I sent Eric to ask for some time off at the weekend, so we can find out who is threatening us, but I should come off of Collections and have a few weeks off before the birth, I think…"

Trailing off, not entirely sure what was protocol in these sorts of situations, Alan just looked down at his hands again, waiting for William to speak up. It wasn't likely that the man was entirely sure what to do, but he would be more likely to know that Alan, and that was something, at least. Waiting for his boss' reply, Alan wondered where Eric had got to. He was supposed to have met him to talk to William about the pregnancy, not leave Alan all alone through it. Sighing, he shifted his weight a little, before staring off at the small window across the room.

"The earliest time off that can be given is eleven weeks before the expected birth," William replied, awkwardly. "I do not know if you will need that time, but you may take it. You have twenty-six weeks for maternity leave, and can have an additional twenty-six if need be, though I doubt you will need it. In any case, that is as far as my research goes, so I shall look into it further as the weeks go by, as it appears there are two pregnant workers in Collections now. You no longer have to go on Collections. I shall reassign Mr Palmer and Mr Jenkins to another officer, though you shall still take them through the paperwork. Is this to your liking, Mr Humphries?"

"Yes, thank you, Sir," Alan nodded, waiting to be allowed to stand. He wasn't, which confused him a little. "That's all from me, Sir. Do you wish to add something?"

"Only a little," William replied, standing up and allowing Alan to do the same. "I don't believe I have to ask, but is Mr Slingby-"

"The father?" Alan asked, after William trailed off. He nodded. "Yes. He was supposed to come here to tell you today, but he appears to have disappeared. I'm going to have to look for him, it seems."

"Indeed," William nodded, before walking over and reaching out to shake Alan's hand. "Well, then, Mr Humphries. I suppose congratulations are in order. Do tell Mr Slingby, won't you?"

Alan nodded whilst shaking William's hand, feeling a little bit of pride swell within him. He was already being congratulated on the little tiny life-form that was growing inside of him. Death producing life – the concept was mind-blowing and unimaginable, but it appeared to have worked, and now that Alan thought about it, the idea was very good. What was growing in his stomach, be it a girl, or a boy, or multiple children, were one of the most important things to him, coming in with Eric. So long as he had the both of them in his life, then no matter how bad it got, he would always have something that would make him smile and feel loved.

"Yes, Sir," Alan agreed, wondering if he was allowed to leave the room yet and get back to work. "And I hear that congratulations are in order for you, too."

"They are?" William looked a little confused. "If you are referring to the children that Grell is carrying, then I believe that you are a little late."

"Oh, I wasn't just referring to that." Alan assured him, smiling a little. "I was thinking about the fact that you know Miss Sutcliff is carrying twins now."

"Indeed," the rarest of tiny smiles crossed William's face, and Alan stared at him in shock. Looking at the clock on the wall, William went and sat back down at his desk. "Grell is adamant that they are girls. We shall see. Now, Mr Humphries, I'm afraid I must get back to work, unless there is anything else you wish to add."

"No, Sir," Alan replied, backing out of the room. "Thank you for your time."

With that he turned and walked out the door, closing it softly behind him. Where was Eric? Annoyance swelled within him. Wasn't the blonde man supposed to be there, supporting him? Feeling a little bit irritated, Alan sighed and paced towards his shared office, trying not to look like he was going to snap the man's neck. Had he forgot? It seemed like something that he would do. Shaking his head, he reached his door and opened it, before sitting down at his desk and picking up his pen, ready to work, not noticing Tyler, who was trying to get his attention.

A tea was placed down on the table, a few drops sloshing out of the sides due to the violence with which it was placed. Looking up, Alan noticed the long, unbound golden-blonde hair of Tyler falling towards him, creating a curtain between him and the other three in the room, who were standing behind him, one looking moody, one looking upset and the other just looking scared. Raising an eyebrow, Alan studied them curiously, before turning back to Tyler.

"Thank you," Alan said, indicating the tea, noticing how it was in Eric's favourite mug. It appeared, from the moodiness of the group, that they were trying to get Alan in Eric's bad-books too, though the man wasn't there, so Alan had very little idea what they hoped to achieve with the idea. "Is there something you want?"

"We never expected you to be so standoffish." Tyler practically growled, standing up straight and folding his arms, hair slipping over his shoulders with ease. "Slingby, we can understand. He needs a day off each week to protect himself, and if you want to help him, then by all means do. We can handle the day in the supervision of somebody else. But you, Mr Humphries, have really crossed the line."

"I'm sorry." Alan was confused. What, exactly, were the people talking about? "I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

"We get it, you know," Tyler tapped his foot against the floor, narrowing his eyes at Alan. "You had the Thorns once. You might have some little 'side effects', but you're perfectly healthy. There is no reason for you to just cast us aside like our career choices are so much dirt. We haven't done anything wrong, and you always seemed so nice. What is wrong with you?"

Alan was still unsure as to what was going on, but the reference to the Thorns caused him to suck in his breath and wince. Just because he was cured now did not mean that it wasn't a sensitive topic. Who had told them that he had had it, anyway? And why did they think he was abandoning them. Yes, he had asked William if he could be taken off of Collections, but why were they taking it so personally?

"I don't know what you've been told, but I am still teaching you the paperwork side of things. I just cannot go on collections."

"Why?" Tyler asked, stepping to the side a little as George came over. "George here got attacked by a demon and broke a leg on his first day out, but still went on Reaps the next day. You cannot have something that prevents you from helping us as badly as you think."

"I do," Alan replied, watching the angry group cautiously. "And I don't know why it should be any of your business, but now that you are making such a fuss I suppose that you might as well know. It isn't like I would be able to hide it from you, anyway, eventually. I'm pregnant."

Tyler raised an eyebrow, George laughed, Nicholas looked away as if in embarrassment, but an interested sparkle entered Adam's eyes. Clearly he was believed by one, though not all.

"Not to be funny, mate, but men can't get pregnant," George chuckled, looking around at the others. "I can see why you've been taken off now. You've gone mad, haven't you?"

"No-" Alan tried to argue, but he was surrounded by a group of laughing young Shinigami, with seemingly no way out. They were all standing in a ring around him, laughing, until a quiet, almost inaudible voice whispered through them, carrying, even though it was very quiet. They all turned to face Adam, whose dark cheeks had turned very pale, and who was looking down, trying to hide behind his black hair. It wasn't working, and he was soon forced to speak again.

"I said," he whispered, making Alan wonder how he had ever been brave enough to put his name down for Collections, and then pass the final exam. "That men can get pregnant. I was reading up on it. Men can get pregnant. It's due to a curse every Reaper Moon, and… clearly the Thorns cure has the same effect on Reapers. I'd like to… Well, I'd like to get my hands on that sort of information. It's very interesting."

The group stared at him for a while, before Nicholas, looking very professional, despite his shock, turned to Alan with a blank face.

"Is this true?"

"Yes," Alan nodded, picking up the tea and taking a sip. It was very salty – clearly it had been made to spite him – but he was craving salt, so he drank it without complaint. It tasted quite nice, actually, though he could see Tyler pulling a face before him. "It is. I am pregnant."

"Is this why you and Mr Slingby were arguing so much before?" George demanded, looking at the empty desk. "Is it not his, or something?"

"Of course it is!" Alan was horrified. To think someone would even suggest such a thing! "I wouldn't sleep around. Just as Miss Sutcliff is carrying Mr Spears' children, I am carrying the offspring of Eric Slingby. And we were not arguing because of wanting to keep them or not, either."

"Then why?" Tyler folded his arms again, though he looked a lot less moody.

"Because Eric cured me of the Thorns by killing one thousand innocent people, that's why. Which is, as Adam said, exactly why I have this ability or curse in the first place."

"Do you see it as a curse?" Adam's whisper-voice cut through Alan's feisty conversation with George and Tyler, neutralizing the anger that he could feel building up against the two. He knew it was only hormones and stress, but he couldn't help but still feel guilt. When Alan's face whipped round to Adam, though, the man looked down and he went still, tense. "Sorry, Sir."

Softly, Alan spoke. "Of course I don't think of it as a curse, Adam." He informed the younger man. "I love the child or children that I am carrying already, and could never see them as a curse. Why do you ask?"

"I don't think it is a curse," Adam replied, fiddling with his fingers. "Or an 'ability'. I think it is a blessing."

"You may be right," Alan allowed, watching as the rest of the people in the room went to sit down at their own desks, though he knew the discussion was going to be continued. "And I think that Eric feels the same way. Which reminds me. Have any of you seen him today?"

"No," Nicholas replied, opening a drawer and rummaging around inside of it, clearly looking for something. "Not since lunch break. He left with you. I thought it was a half-day for him, though, Mr Humphries?"

"It is," Alan replied, confusion rising to his features. Where was the man? He had no idea. "But he was supposed to meet me so that we could talk to Mr Spears and he never did."

"Maybe he forgot," Tyler replied, worry creasing his features too. He and Eric had become good enough friends that should one of them mysteriously vanish, the other would worry. "You know how he is."

"I suppose," Alan agreed, his worry not decreasing slightly. "I still worry."

"As you well should," Nicholas informed him, still searching in his draw. Pushing his glasses up, he furrowed his brow, before finally reaching his hand into the draw and pulling out a slightly crumpled letter. Standing, he came forward to Alan's desk and handed him the letter. "I don't know of its content, but a police officer dropped this off today."

Handing the letter to Alan, the boy walked back to his desk, leaving the brunette to stare down at it, too scared to open it for fear of what it would say. Maybe it would be good news. Maybe Eric was talking to the police about the threats they were receiving, and they had decided to tell Alan that they were going to help. He certainly hoped that was what they were going to say.

Turning it over, Alan quickly reached into his draw and pulled out his letter-opener, slicing open the envelope and pulling out the folded sheet within. Reading it, he felt his heart drop. He hoped that he had read it wrong. He had had to have read it wrong. He couldn't be reading it correctly, could he? Once more, he checked through the content, feeling his brows furrow.

 _Mr Humphries,_

 _It has come to the attention of the authorities that souls have once more been stolen during the night. It is impossible for anyone to have done this, it seems, as anyone who knows someone with Thorns has had their scythes removed, and the scythes of all those that they live with. It seems to us in the police department that Mr Slingby is the only person in the Realm that has a reason and the possibility to commit such a crime._

 _Mr Sutcliff, Mr Knox, Mr Lawrence-Robinson, Dr Lawrence-Robinson, Mr Snider and many other colleagues of yours have all stated that you and Mr Slingby are living together now. You still take your scythe home, as it was considered a ridiculous notion that Mr Slingby or you would ever go out collecting souls again. Now, it has come to our attention that souls of the innocent are being stolen, and the only person we can find with the means to do this is Mr Slingby._

 _He has been arrested today on suspicion of crimes against Mortals, and will be sentenced soon. If you have any wish to change this, you must come to the Police Department today and make any arrangements there. If you have no qualms, we will not be expecting you._

 _Sorry for any inconvenience caused._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Andrew Lee_

Alan stared down at the paper in his hands in shock. They had… They had arrested Eric on suspicion of stealing souls during the night? But Alan knew that couldn't be true. He had fallen asleep next to the man and woken up next to the man. What was going on? He needed to tell them exactly what he thought of their detective skills. They could take them and go and do something rather uncomfortable with a certain part of their anatomy, so to speak.

Scowling, feeling his worried heartbeat, Alan padded out of the room, only stopping when he thought of something. Just because Eric was arrested didn't mean that he had to stop every-one else's joys and interests. He quickly turned back to Adam and studied him, before speaking quickly.

"Do you still want to find out about the Thorns cure, Adam?" Nervously, the boy nodded. "Then go to the hospital after your shift and ask for Doctor Lawrence-Robinson and Nurse Lawrence-Robinson, then tell them that Alan Humphries sent you about the book. They'll know what you mean."

With that, he turned to leave, hearing a mumbled 'thank you' as he walked out of the door and left, heading towards Jose's office.

It wasn't long before he reached it, knocking on the door before walking in. Jose looked up, an expression of confusion on his face, before a small smile broke out over his lips, just showing his pointy teeth, much like Grell's.

"Alan," he exclaimed, amusement in his voice. "I haven't seen you for a while. How are you and Eric? Any good news? I haven't seen Eric in a while, either."

"I'm pregnant," Alan replied, walking towards the desk and dropping the letter in front of Jose. "And Eric has been arrested. Read this."

"Pregnant?" Jose asked, wrinkling his nose. "Arrested? It seems I'm missing something here."

"So read the letter," Alan snapped. He knew he was being rude and inconsiderate, but he couldn't help it. The letter had been a surprise and a shock, and he couldn't just sit around doing nothing. He had come to get Jose so that he would have support in the police block, and so that Eric's friends would know what was going on, but that did not mean that he wanted to wait around for the black-haired man to make up his mind.

Finished with the letter, Jose passed his hands over his pale face, breathing out heavily as he tensed up. After a short while, Alan jittering on the balls of his feet, Jose stood up and grabbed Alan's arm, steadying him.

"Come on," Jose murmured, quickly dragging Alan along. "I'll go and see Mr Spears. Leave the letter with me, while you get your coat. Wait by the front door. I'll fetch you when we're ready, okay?"

"Yes," Alan allowed, submitting to being dragged out of the corridors and to the stairs by the worried man. "I'll meet you there. Please don't be long. There isn't much of the day left, and I don't want to have to watch Eric be sentenced for something he didn't do."

"You won't have to, Alan," Jose promised, squeezing his shoulder. "We'll do everything in out power to save Eric. Don't you worry."

"I'm going to worry," Alan protested, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. "But I will try to keep a level head. Now, please, hurry up and get us off of work. I can't wait another moment. Eric is all alone in that prison, and this time I'm not angry at him and I don't think it serves him right."

"It never served him right," Jose muttered, before turning away from Alan, ready to go to Mr Spears' office. He turned back to say one last thing to the brunette. "But you're right. This is totally unfair. He has done nothing wrong. We will get him out. Don't you worry."

Alan nodded, before walking off to the front doors, ready to wait for Jose. No matter what, no matter what he had to do, Alan was not going to let Eric be killed for something he didn't do. He couldn't let the blonde die. He loved him, and he was pregnant with the blonde's offspring, whether that be boys, girls, five or even just one child. Nothing that anyone could say or do would stop Alan from saving Eric. Nothing. He just had to find some sort of legal way first, before he tried to spring Eric from the jail, though he knew he would have the support of Jose, Kai, Nova, Braylen, Roger, Tyler, Lizbeth and Evelyn. With that thought in mind, Alan tapped his foot and waited, eyes darting about for any sign of Jose.

 **Author's Note: I hope that wasn't too disappointing of a chapter, and if Alan was OOC then I apologise, but he is pregnant, and hormones will rage! I hope that this chapter makes you want to read on, as everything is more exciting now. Hope you enjoyed!**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler. Yana Toboso does, though I own this storyline.** **Enjoy!**

One Thousand Souls Chapter Twelve

Alan shifted nervously, feeling Jose do the same beside him. The two of them had been led to a room within the Shinigami Police Building after handing over the letter to be read by the receptionist, but it appeared that they had been ignored since then. Alan was jittery and nervous, worry causing his heart to beat faster and his fingers to dance on his lap. At this rate, whether they came to visit Eric or not, it didn't matter. He was still going to be judged without input from Alan, as he and Jose would never see the man before the day was up. They had been waiting for two hours, after all.

Alan had no understanding of why, either, unless it was a test to make sure that he really cared about whether Eric would live or die. If he hadn't bothered to stay, they would have known about it, and they would have probably executed Eric on the spot. Resolutely, Alan clenched his fist on his knee to stop his fingers from tapping up and down, and he leant his head backwards against the wall. Despite his best efforts, though, his leg still jittered up and down with anxiety. Jose was probably watching and judging, Alan knew, but he couldn't care less. The man could laugh at how much he cared for Eric all he wanted, it wouldn't change a thing.

"You know," Jose's tone was hushed, his eyes darting around and lingering on the door to the room. It still didn't open, no matter how much it was stared at. Alan had given that tactic up within half an hour, when it became obvious that no-one was coming. "I can go and get you someone who can comfort you better. I know I'm no good. We barely know each other."

"Don't leave," Alan responded, opening his eyes and bringing his head back up. "I think I might go crazy if I'm left in this room alone."

"I know the feeling," Jose responded, running his hands through his raven locks. "I swear, if they leave us in here any longer, I just might scream. When are they going to come?"

His eyes went back to the door, and Alan sighed, leaning forwards with his elbows upon his knees as he buried his face in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp. The only reason he hadn't drawn blood, he knew, was because of the black leather covering his hands. Clenching his teeth, he wondered how Jose could stand to sit so still. All of his body was humming with energy, desperate to save his blonde haired lover. He glanced at Jose. His eyes were still upon the door.

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'a watched pot never boils'?" Alan asked, sitting back up again. He was starting to get rather hungry, but he was glad to know that he got morning sickness in the early morning, rather than Grell, who he had learned had got it around six o'clock in the evening. Glancing at the lone piece of decoration on the grey-green walls, a clock, Alan noted that it was around half-past six. Honestly, when were they going to come?

"I have," Jose responded, tearing his eyes away from the door and instead fiddling with his cuffs. "But I feel more productive when I watch it. I think I'd be just as jittery as you if I wasn't watching it, see?"

"I suppose," Alan mumbled, pulling at the wrists of his gloves now. "I just don't know how you can keep yourself so still."

"Can I tell you a secret?" Jose asked, leaning in closer and smirking a bit, clearly hoping to alleviate the tension. Alan nodded, ever so slightly distracted from the situation. "I'm very, very tense. So tense, in fact, that I think I may have pulled a muscle."

Feeling his lips twitch, Alan nodded and shifted his weight, tapping his fingers on the desk between them and the single, empty black chair. Glaring at it, the brunette wondered if anyone even knew he and Jose were there, of if they had just been forgotten about. Breathing out, Alan stared off at the far wall, the silence in the room pressing at him. It was so silent and tense, and he couldn't do anything to change that. Groaning quietly, he shifted again, wondering if anyone would mind a great deal if he got up and went for a walk around the complex. Then again, he wasn't sure he could hold himself back from running down the corridors if he was allowed out of the room. Besides, for all he knew, the room he was in was locked.

"Do you have anything that I could eat?" He asked hopefully, though not really expecting anything. Jose only had what he came with, which was his jacket and uniform. Alan's stomach growled in protest of the lack of food. "I'm very hungry."

"I can tell," Jose replied, smiling a bit as he heard Alan's stomach grumbling, folding his arms and leaning back. His floppy black hair curled upwards off of his head as he leant it against the wall, the strands curling into themselves to create loop-the-loops on his head. Alan felt his breath exhale in a hurried, sudden laugh, though there was little joy behind it. "I'm afraid not. I'll go and see if they have a-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the door swung open revealing a pretty young lady standing in the doorway. She was short, only just clearing Alan's height, and her skin was creamy. She was thin and delicate looking, with long, silky black hair that cascaded around her shoulders, and thin student glasses. She hadn't passed the exam, it seemed, and had instead become part of the Shinigami city that never visited the human realm.

She had a little frilly cap upon her head, a black dress reaching to her ankles clad over her slender body, a white apron falling over the skirt as the front of the dress laced up over a white shirt. She was clearly a maid, and she looked a little nervous, but despite her nervous appearance and the fact that she wasn't actually someone that Alan was looking for, such as a police official, Alan was glad to see her. At least there was another person in the room, another person to whom Alan could talk, even if only for a brief moment.

"Good evening," her voice had a slight lilt to it that could only come from Asia, and the brunette wasn't surprised. She looked as if she had come from Japan, and was now working as a maid in this country. Shinigami often moved from country to country. There were many people from America, Europe and Africa within the London Shinigami city, but most of them were people who had failed the test, people that Alan didn't often see, considering he worked in the Dispatch Building. If you passed your exam, you generally stayed within the country you passed it in, as was the rule. "My name is Akiyama Maiko. I was sent to inform you that you need only wait another hour before Mr Lee is here. He is currently dealing with a minor matter in the prison block, and deeply regrets that he cannot be here with you when you have been waiting so patiently for him."

So that was the reason, Alan realised. Leaning back in his chair, he felt some of the tension drain off of him. He was only waiting for so long because Mr Lee was busy dealing with some rowdy prisoners, not because it was some sort of test. That was a relief. Nodding his thanks to Maiko, Alan watched as Jose stood up and drew closer to the woman. She looked a little nervous as he approached, but when he stopped a few feet away from her and began talking she relaxed, nodding her head and smiling, before heading out the door, bowing before she left. Jose came back to sit in the chair he had just vacated.

"What did you ask her for?" Alan's interest was piqued. Now that he knew when he should be expecting Mr Lee, he could shove his nerves and worries about Eric to the back of his mind for a while, and hope to distract himself with something else.

"Just some tea and some food for the both of us." Jose replied, leaning back in his chair and resting his head back against the wall has he folded his arms once more. "Oh, and for her to make a phone call to the hospital, sending for Doctor and Nurse Lawrence-Robinson. You mentioned you were pregnant. I thought it might be important."

"I am," Alan nodded, hands gripping the sides of his chair, fingers curled underneath the seat. "It's a good idea. They might not be needed, but I would like Braylen and Roger with me anyway. Why haven't you called someone for you?"

"Because I'm worried about what may happen to someone who I called." Jose murmured, looking around before leaning in and talking quietly into Alan's ear. "Anyone I called in would be connected to the first round of soul-snatching, and I don't want to put Kai in danger, and certainly not my… well, Nova."

"Eric pretended he was dating Nova," Alan murmured, having leaned in towards Jose as well. He leaned back now, looking down. "But really, you, Mr McFadden and Miss Berry were all working towards saving my life. Why would you work that hard? For Eric?"

"Well, yes," Jose nodded, looking down. "But also because you are a person that we all liked, and all agreed that we couldn't let you die. You were so young, still are, really, and I don't know about Nova or Kai, but I couldn't yet someone as young as you die. You died young as a human, didn't you, and I guess that I couldn't bear to watch you suffering and dying when you had only just started living as a Shinigami."

Alan was a little stunned. No-one had ever said that to him before, let alone someone he knew so little about. Flushing a little, Alan ducked his head and started fiddling with his fingers once more, releasing their death-grip on the chair.

"I suppose I have to thank you, then," Alan whispered, feeling a little embarrassed about how strongly the other felt. "And I suppose Eric can call you a true friend, but if you are worried that you're going to be arrested now too, you could always leave. I'm sure they wouldn't stop you."

"No," Jose shook his head. "You're right, they wouldn't stop me, because they don't know, and Eric refuses to pin the blame on us three, but I would certainly take some blame if they sentence Eric to death. I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that he took a punishment unfairly, and I've said as much to him."

"Eric is very protective of those he cares about," Alan assured Jose, before realising that Jose had probably known Eric for a lot longer than he had. Blushing once more, he looked away. "But you probably knew that, so sorry."

"Of course I knew that," Jose smirked, leaning back a little, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. Alan's followed. Half an hour to go. "But I'm pleased that you know that too. He doesn't share the same opinion about those he doesn't give a toss about. You, my dear friend, are someone very important to him."

"I should hope so," murmured Alan, eyes studying the floor. There were some odd brown stains on the floor near his feet, and he shifted his shoes, wondering if the last person who had sat in the chair he was sitting in had been bleeding all over the floor. "I am carrying his child or children now, aren't I?"

"I suppose." Jose nodded, eyes glancing towards Alan's stomach. "You know, I just assumed you were putting on weight because you were back in full health. It never occurred to me that you might be pregnant. I think… well… I think it's because it's such a rare occurrence. Grell's pregnant now too, isn't she?"

"With twins," Alan replied, mind wandering to more important subjects, like when their food would be there, or when Braylen and Roger could get there. "I doubt I have twins, though. I feel like I'm only carrying one child. Though I am very hungry."

"Boy or girl?"

"Sorry?" Alan's head whipped around to Jose, eyes narrowing as he wondered if the black haired man had lost his mind.

"Do you think you're carrying a boy or a girl? It's a simple question, really."

"Oh…" He paused, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. "It's something that I've never really thought about before, but now that you mention it, I honestly couldn't tell you. I don't think I care what gender it is either way. I don't think Eric does, either. We haven't had much of a chance to talk about it, though, because, well… you know…"

"Indeed I do," Jose nodded, himself reaching out to tap his gloved fingers upon the desk before him, stopping only when a knock came at the door once more, before the thing swung open on its hinges.

"Excuse me," Miss Akiyama bowed, before entering the room backwards, dragging a trolley in with her. "But I have food and drink with me."

"Oh, good," Jose clapped his hands together, dragging his chair closer to the table, the chain connecting it to the floor tinkling on the ground as the links moved against each other. "We were just wondering where it was, weren't we, Alan?"

"Yes," he dragged his chair forwards, mimicking Jose's movements, and then waited as Miss Akiyama stepped forwards, her feet brushing against the floor softly. The scent of breakfast tea washed over Alan as she laid the cups on the table, along with a glass of water and a pie to share between them. His mouth watering at the sight of the food, Alan thanked Miss Akiyama with sincerity.

"Enjoy," her voice was lilting and soft, and it certainly worked to relax Alan. "The guards have asked me to stay, Sirs." She added, looking down with a slight flush. "They want for me to make sure neither of you steal any would-be weapons. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."

"Don't be," Jose smiled at her, picking up his knife and gesturing to the chair before them. "Take that chair and eat some of my food. I don't mind sharing, though you'll have a problem with Mr Humphries here. He's our resident pregnant 'woman', right?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't call me a woman," Alan murmured, smiling at Miss Akiyama to show that he didn't mind her intrusion either. "But yes, I am rather hungry, as I am eating for more than one now."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," Miss Akiyama replied, eyes widening at the prospect. "Mr Lee would be terribly unhappy if I sat in his chair. I'm but a maid, after all. I never passed my final exam."

"That doesn't matter to us, Miss Akiyama," Jose smiled, Alan nodding to show he agreed. "We'll just assure him that we persuaded you. Honestly, you will have no blame as far as Alan and I can see to it."

Cautiously, Miss Akiyama reached out her hand and rested it on the back of the lone, empty chair, before cautiously scraping it out. She winced when she heard the stiff sound of the legs dragging against the stone floor, but finally it was far enough away from the table that she could slip into it and sit down. Dragging it forwards again, she sat down and rested her hands upon the table, her head looking down as she tried not to stare at their food. It was very high quality, after all. They were not prisoners, and were not to be treated as such, it seemed.

"Please, Miss Akiyama," Jose held out his fork, a small smile playing on his face. "You can eat my entire meal, if you wish. I eat a lot later than this usually. I only asked to eat because Alan needed it."

"Oh," she flushed a little, but delicately raised a hand out to accept the fork. Warmly, Jose pressed it into her hand, before watching as she scooped up the meal before her and hummed in delight as she chewed and swallowed a small piece, her eyes growing wider as she realised how nice it tasted. "It's very nice. I usually don't eat such nice foods…. Not that I'm complaining, of course. It was my fault for failing, so the food that I can get is good enough for me."

"Nonsense," Jose replied, pushing the plate closer to her. "Eat that and come and bother me if you ever want something better than this. I am an extremely good cook."

At Alan's raised eyebrow, the black haired man smirked. "Well, where do you think Eric learnt it from?"

They all chuckled at that, though Miss Akiyama didn't look as if she knew why she was laughing. Taking another experimental bite, she looked up, finished chewing and swallowed, before opening her mouth again, ready to speak.

"Furthermore, Mr Humphries, Mr Snider," she pushed some of her long, silky hair over her shoulders. "Doctor and Nurse Lawrence-Robinson should be here soon."

"Thank you," Alan murmured, eating his own food and humming in satisfaction himself. It really _was_ good food. "Please, call me Alan."

"And call me Jose," Jose added, taking a sip of his tea and relaxing further than he already had been.

"I couldn't-" Though she was going to protest, the looks that Alan and Jose levelled her with caused her to smile instead, and nod her head in agreement. "Well in that case, Alan, Jose, I think that you should call me Maiko."

Leaning back in his chair, feeling a lot less tense than he had before, Alan sipped at his own tea, finished with his meal. Though Eric was still on his mind, worry for the man evident in every line of his body, he was glad that he had Jose and Maiko to distract him, even if it did seem that Jose was maybe just a little bit _too_ distracted. He was fairly certain Nova and Jose were supposed to be dating. Then again, who was he to stand in the way of love and affection, and if Jose really found Maiko more interesting than the woman he claimed he loved, then far be it from Alan to stop him chasing after his goals. Sighing, Alan decided to wait for Braylen, Roger and Mr Lee, knowing that he only had fifteen minutes left until he could start to sort out the mess he was in.

…

"You're back, are you?" came a moody voice at his side, and Eric turned to behold Willie Lawrence standing next to the bench he was sitting on in the courtyard. He was angry and a little insulted that Alan hadn't come to get him yet, but he supposed it wasn't all bad. Despite it being a prison, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. The courtyard he was sitting in was an area the inmates were sent to each day for a good two hours, and though it was bare, it was generally sunny and though the tables and benches were chained to the ground, it was rather more interesting than the cells that they kept the prisoners in. "What did you do this time?"

"Leave him alone, Will," Came an exasperated voice from beside the black haired menace, and the silver haired friend leaned over the shoulder of the slightly taller man. Black tattoos curled up both men's skin, running in swirls down their arms to their wrists, and stopping just above the collars of the shirts they wore. All the prisoners wore the same thing. A plain white shirt and a plain pair of black cotton trousers. Nothing else was permitted. His silver chain had been taken away, and he was more than a little annoyed by that, though he was used to it by now. "He's probably not pleased to be back here."

" _Really_?" Willie asked, turning to the silver boy and widening his eyes as if in shock. "Do you _really_ think, Dan, that Slingby here may not be _entirely_ pleased to be back? _Really_?"

Dangelo sighed, eyes lighting up at the black haired boy's words. "You know full well, Willie Lawrence, that your sarcasm is the biggest reason that you get into so many fights." He reached out, pulling the taller man's collar aside slightly, before brushing his fingers across a patch of bandages that were wrapped around the black haired man's shoulder. "Honestly, what would Jenny think if she saw this?"

"I don't know, Dan, what would she think?" Will huffed, folding his arms and leaning against the table that Eric was sat at. The blonde raised an eyebrow at Will's back in response, but the messy haired youth didn't move an inch. Mostly, Eric realised, because he didn't have eyes in the back of his head.

"Maybe," a new voice chipped in, silky smooth and thick as honey, "She would think that you, Will Lawrence, are an idiot."

Two more people slid onto the bench with Eric, Dan going to sit next to the shorter of the two, though neither of them really counted as short. Morgan Edwards was pale, with bright blue glasses and messy black hair that fell over his face. He was just as muscular as Will, though slightly thinner and more elongated. They shared the curling black patterns spread across their body.

Next to him was Charles Watson, a man with caramel coloured skin and a flirtatious look about him. His black hair was soft and fell in a gentle silk curtain to his shoulders. He and Morgan were holding hands, and he was ever so slightly taller than the other, equalling Eric in height. Eric groaned slightly and let his face fall onto his arms on the table. He forgot what an annoying bunch he usually hung out with in the courtyard.

The four surrounding him had access to the courtyard at all times, he knew, and they had access to a pretty little garden that he had glimpsed briefly when he had been escorted to his cell. He even had a small window in his cell that looked out at the very edge of the garden, though it mostly had a spectacular view of a dull brick wall. Eric had counted the bricks on it last time he had been here. There were exactly three hundred different bricks he could see, depending on the different angles he looked out of the window from.

"But seriously," Charles poked Eric with one of his long, black nailed fingers. "Why are you in here again? I thought you got let out?"

"I did," Eric mumbled into his arms, not bothering to look up. "Bu' now I'm back. They've gone and done it again, too. They've gone and taken my earrings and chain away again."

"They do that to everyone," Charles pointed out. "My ears used to be filled with piercings, but they take them all away if I'm going into the courtyard. Every. Single. Time. They make us change into 'prison garb' too. It's atrocious."

"Tha's only 'cause yer're the mos' flamoyan' person the world has ever seen," Eric moaned, sitting back up and rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "Tha's why yer have those sparkly yellow things where mos' have glasses."

"I'll have you know that these are perfectly acceptable glasses, Blondie," Charles exclaimed, before turning towards his boyfriend. "Aren't you going to protect my honour, Honey? This Scotsman is insulting me!"

"Well," Morgan said, looking down a little. "He's not wrong when he says that you're very flamboyant. But… I love you anyway."

"Even though I'm half demon and everything the Shinigami stand against?" Charles asked, eyes strangely vulnerable.

"Even then," Morgan nodded, causing Willie to make a gagging sound.

"Could you keep your lovey-dovey thoughts to yourselves, maybe, lovebirds?" Will asked, voice loud over the chatter that was occurring in the rest of the courtyard. "I don't know if I can hold back my sick for much longer."

"Oh, leave them alone, Will," Dangelo murmured, cuffing the black haired man over the back of the head lightly, though hard enough to cause the dark blue frames that Will wore to bounce down his nose slightly. "You let me have my Jenny."

"You're my brother in every way but blood, Dan," Will replied, folding his arms. "And you're dying. I couldn't be so cruel as to take away my brother's life, could I?"

"You're half of my life, Will. You and Jenny. That's all I need to survive."

"I wish that wasn't so," Willie replied, hand ruffling through Dan's hair. "I'm not good for you. I'm not good for anyone. But then, I'm glad that I've got you, Dan. You're all I have, after all."

Eric groaned again, leaning his head against the table once more. He wondered if he would die if he hit his head hard enough. He was terribly annoyed listening to the men talk. Both were reminding him of things he didn't need to think about. Morgan and Charles reminded him of he and Alan, and Dan and Will reminded him of Alan and he before Alan had been cured. It didn't help that Dan had the Thorns. He was only living in the prison because Will lived there, and Will had no-one. Jenny was going to live there too, soon, and then the three of them would stay together until it was time for Dan to depart forever.

Eric knew that wasn't how the world should work. No one should have someone they loved cruelly ripped from them, but then again, there was nothing they could do to stop it either. He was purposely not telling them why he was in the prison, as he had purposely not told them last time. He knew that Will would never be able to escape the prison block to go and steal souls for Dan, but he also knew that Will was exactly the kind of person that would do that. He knew that Will resembled him in many ways, and the bond he had formed with Dan, though it was different from the one he had formed with Alan, it was just as strong as it. Unable to watch or listen any longer, Eric slid down the bench and settled in the shadows, despite the chill of winter that was making his skin grow goose pimples. It was the middle of winter in the Shinigami Realm – why were the forced to be in the outdoor courtyard. Then again, as far as he was aware, there was a fight between two people he couldn't stand and two people he found fairly acceptable in that hall. Maybe they were cleaning it. What he did know for certain, though, was that they would be punished.

"Eric Slingby?" Came a voice from a few metres away from the table. Eric groaned and sat up again, turning around to face the newcomer. A dark skinned policeman with purple framed glasses was standing a few metres away, crazily messy hair tucked under his cap and a diamond ring on his finger. Clearly, he was married.

"Wha' do yer wan'?" Eric mumbled, wondering if the officer would let him just go back to moping on the table.

"I am Officer Moss." Eric shrugged, not entirely sure why he was supposed to care. "I am here to fetch you and take you to the visitor room. Mr Humphries is here, and we have determined that you are allowed to see him, as he is carrying your child."

Eric's heart picked up in pace, and he quickly rose to his feet, his scowl dropping as he realised that Alan hadn't abandoned him. The brunette had been trying to get to see him all this time. Looking up at the sky and noticing that the only reason there was any light in the courtyard was because of the locked away candles behind glass panels in the walls, Eric realised that the feisty brunette had been pushing for hours to get to see him. Thanking every power that he knew of that the little brunette hadn't given up after all the processes and waiting that must have been involved, Eric walked over to Officer Moss, wondering how they ever thought the man could subdue him. He was half a foot shorter than him, and a lot less muscular. If he wanted to make a break for it, then he could, and only the fact that there were twenty other guards placed in the courtyard would stop him.

"I'm afraid, Mr Slingby, that I'm going to have to put you in cuffs." Officer Moss looked a little embarrassed and apologetic, but Eric just shrugged and held out his wrists, waiting for them to be snapped together. The click was loud, and Eric winced, noticing that everyone in the area was staring at him and Office Moss now, despite the fact that they must have been bathed in shadows. A few flakes of snow fell out of the air. No wonder he felt like his hands had gone numb. They had, and the metal biting into his wrists was truly freezing.

"Whatever," he shrugged, allowing Officer Moss to lead them out of the courtyard and into the building, sighing in relief as the heat started to worm its way into his stiff, tense and frozen muscles. "Jus' so long as I ge' to see my Alan."

Officer Moss glanced at him and smiled slightly, Eric noticing that the man twisted the ring he was wearing around his finger, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He was a nice man, Eric decided, and he didn't treat the inmates like animals. The last guard that he had had, Officer Kaur, had been truly nasty, always hitting and taunting whenever he could. The silence, while not particularly pleasant, wasn't awful, and Eric found himself relaxing in the warmth.

"Yer know," he began, smirking a little when Officer Moss turned around to face him. "Yer could always pu' us back inside, now. It's freezin' ou' there."

He nodded his head back in the direction he came, and Officer Moss laughed a little.

"I believe that they were going to do that just before we left, Mr Slingby," he stopped at a plain wooden door, and Eric wondered what was inside. Was it Alan? It was infuriating that he couldn't see. "Certainly, by the time you finish seeing Mr Humphries, you will be led back into your cell. I believe that it isn't too cold in there, is it?"

"Maybe I could do with a few extra blanke's," Eric shrugged nonchalantly. "I migh' like lookin' like a deranged Eskimo, yer know?"

"Alright, Mr Slingby," Officer Moss grinned again, and Eric marvelled at the fact that he had been given an officer that clearly didn't mind the fact that he was speaking to a criminal. Most officers, even if they weren't like Officer Kaur, didn't particularly like socialising with the prisoners, but Officer Moss spoke to him like he was a person. Eric was glad. "We'll get you those extra blankets. Now, Mr Humphries is in here. You have an hour, and then I'll be back to get you. Have fun."

With that, he opened the door and stepped back, allowing Eric to enter the room. Alan had turned around when he heard the click of the opening door, and he sat with his back to Eric, but his face over his shoulder, eyes wide. Eric stepped forwards, heart beating quickly because of the little brunette, and he didn't even flinch when the door was closed, so close to him that it could have hit him on the head should he have stepped back half an inch.

"Eric?" Alan asked, as if he needed confirming that the blonde before him was indeed his lover. "Eric, I'm so glad to see you."

With that, he picked himself up off the chair he was sitting on and launched himself at Eric, hugging the blonde close, even though Eric couldn't hug back. Annoyance lanced through Eric at the idea that he couldn't freely touch and hold his little love, but he pushed it down. It wouldn't do to be angry towards Alan. It wasn't his fault, after all.

"And I'm glad to see yer too." He replied, nuzzling his face into the brunette's hair and breathing in the scent that was just Alan, finding himself relaxing at it. "Yer wee bunny rabbi'."

"Back to that again?" Alan asked, arms reaching up to fiddle with Eric's hair, before he pulled them back towards himself so he could strip his gloves off. Eric understood how he was feeling. Being unable to have skin-on-skin contact with the one you loved in a situation such as this was horrible. Even if the touches were just chaste and gentle ones, with no ulterior motive, it was nice to feel the flesh of Alan's hand against his cheek, and vice versa. "I could say you were a lion, you know?"

"A lion?" Eric wrinkled his nose, a smirk dancing about his lips. He knew that they were going to have to stop their playful banter soon, but he would be damned if he didn't get to spend at least a bit of relaxing, joyful time with his little love, especially if the visits were going to be few and far between. "Why a lion?"

"Well, you're big, strong and brave, and you seem playful as a lion at times," Alan blushed, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled slightly. "And you just remind me of a lion. If you were going to be an animal, that's what I think you would be, alright?"

"Alrigh'," Eric agreed, leaning down to kiss his little brunette on the forehead. Now came the time for the proper talking. "Now, promise me tha' yer gonnae ea' properly and look after yerself, fer my sake and fer the bairn, alrigh'?"

"I promise," Alan nodded, reaching up to stroke his fingers over Eric's cheek a little. Eric couldn't help but to lean in to the touch. "And I promise that I'll get you out of here, Eric Slingby. If I have to go through hell to get you out of here, I would stop at nothing. I love you too much to let you be executed, and I'm not letting our child grow up without a father, either."

"I know," Eric nodded, leaning down to kiss the brunette on the cheek. "I know yer won'."

A thought struck him. How long did he have, and how often was he allowed to see Alan? Worry started clenching at his heart. He wasn't entirely sure how much time he had, but he was certain that whatever it was, it wouldn't be enough. Not really.

"How much time-" He tried to say, unable to finish the sentence. "And how often?"

"I get to visit you once a week," Alan's eyes were sad, and his fingers had set a steady rhythm against Eric's cheek, stroking his face softly and sadly. "And that's only because I pretended that you were my fiancé. I know we're not really, and now is definitely not the time to be making those decisions, but I had the ring on that chain, and it made sense as a story to get me in here."

"I don' mind," Eric promised him, bare fingers clasping the suit jacket that Alan was wearing. "I jus' wan' to see yer and the little one, alrigh'? Yer'll come each week, righ'?"

"Of course I'll come each week," Alan snapped, fingers clasping the front of Eric's plain cotton shirt tightly. "What do you take me for?"

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Eric tried to hold his hands up as if in surrender, but the effect was ruined by the fact that they were held together with the cuffs. Alan bit his lip a little guiltily and looked down. "There was no need to bite me head off."

"I know," Alan murmured, leaning his head against Eric's chest, his hands snaking up to link behind Eric's neck. "But I just… I'm feeling very stressed, and I've heard hormones get a little out of control in pregnancy. Not that I'm trying to excuse my snapping, but… I'm sorry, Eric."

"Ah," Eric waved the little man off, a small smile popping onto his face. "Yer allowed to be under stress, ain' yer? I'm sorry fer annoyin' yer, I was jus' worryin'."

"I know," Alan nodded, face still buried in Eric's chest. "I just… I've only got six months to get enough evidence to save you. I don't know… Well, I don't know if I'm going to be able to do it."

"I know yer will," Eric responded, pulling back from the little brunette to lift his head up, fingers dancing underneath his chin. "I love yer, yer love me. Tha's jus' wha' we need, righ'?"

"I suppose," Alan murmured, dropping his eyes down to the floor. "I know I'm not going to stop at anything, in the very least."

"I'm jus' glad yer believe it wasn' me. None of the numpties in this place believe me."

"How could I not?" Alan asked, eyes searching Eric's. "I love you. I don't believe you would go around murdering for the fun of it. Neither do Braylen, Roger or Jose, or even Adam, who came in with Braylen and Roger."

"He did, did he?" Eric murmured, not really all that interested in the other people. Certainly, they would help his Alan get him out, but in that moment, all he cared about was the little brunette before him, and the child he was carrying. "What was he doing with them?"

"Research about male pregnancies," Alan mumbled. "I think he's found his calling as a Doctor. He seems pretty good at it. I might talk to William about getting him transferred to work in the hospital as a nurse if Adam wants it."

"You do tha'," Eric nodded, eyes connected with Alan's as he leaned ever closer. "My Alan. Always so kind to everyone."

"I can assure you," he whispered, fingers dancing in the blonde's hair once more. "That I will not be kind to anyone who tries to incriminate you without hard evidence."

"I'm glad tha' I've go' such a feisty wee lover." Eric replied, wishing he could put his arms around the man. "I know yer gonnae do everythin' yer can ter ge' me ou'."

"Of course," Alan replied, breath playing across Eric's lip. "I would do anything possible to save you, Eric."

With that, their lips met, and as their tongues and mouths danced together, their eyes sliding closed, Eric clenched ever tighter to Alan's clothes. Yes, he knew, his little Alan would save him. And if he didn't… Well, he didn't want to think about if he didn't. Before, he had had very little to live for, but now, now he had Alan and the beginning of what was going to be a rather large family, he supposed. Desperately, Eric pulled his little lover closer, and hoped with everything he had for the absolute best case scenario.

 **Author's Note: So… whew! That took a** _ **long**_ **time to write, I must say. I hope you enjoy and read again soon!** **If you have any improvements or anything you wish to say, please review. I welcome them! If I want to be an author, I'm going to have to know how to get better, right?**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Author's Note: Okay, so I know I've taken a long time to update for anyone who follows the story. I don't have much of an excuse, other than the fact that I had a bad case of writer's block, and then got suddenly and very obsessed with Doctor Who. I am still obsessed with it, but I've realised that spending an entire evening lying in bed and watching TV is probably not entirely healthy…. Then again, neither is sitting in bed and writing…** **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only the OCs and this storyline.**

One Thousand Souls Chapter Thirteen

Alan had wanted to begin searching for the true culprit of the missing souls the second that he had been forced away from his lover. Technically, he supposed, Officer Moss hadn't forced him out of the room. He had politely asked Alan if he would leave, as it was time for the prisoners to go back to their cells. It had been two hours ago, but the little disruption in the dining hall had taken a lot of time to sort out, and because of that, the prisoners had been left out in the courtyard for a while. Alan had been fairly annoyed by that at the time, but when he himself had walked out of the building with Jose, Braylen and Roger and saw that it had been snowing, he couldn't help but clench his fists in anger. They had kept his Eric out in _that_?

Once they had left, Alan had voiced his desire to look around for the true culprit without any hesitation, eyes latching onto Braylen's. Of the four that were there, Braylen was the most assertive, and if he agreed with you, something got done quickly. If he disagreed with you, you had to wait until he thought the time was right, or do it in secret, which would be rather difficult for Alan, seeing as it was technically a legal affair.

Braylen, despite the pleading look Alan was giving him, had said no, leaving Alan feeling downcast and depressed. If they couldn't start straight away, weren't they just wasting time? Surely they should be helping Eric right off the bat? If they didn't succeed, Eric would be killed. If they didn't succeed because they ran out of time, was it not worse than just because there was no evidence saying that someone else had committed the crimes? Sitting in his living room, hugging a blanket to himself to warm up and sipping at a strong cup of breakfast tea – Braylen and Roger had stopped Alan from putting any stronger stuff into it because of his pregnancy – Alan stewed in his miserable thoughts.

Everyone who was closely connected to Eric or Alan had been called over, save for William T. Spears, Grell Sutcliff and Ronald Knox. Braylen and Roger were leaning against each other on the large white sofa, Kai sitting next to them, his black shoes tapping a staccato pattern into the black and white rug.

In the opposite corner of the room, Nova and Jose shared the dark yellow footrest to the matching armchair that was being occupied by Evelyn and Lizbeth. No one looked happy, though idle chatter was being passed back and forth. It appeared that they were waiting for Alan to say something, but he couldn't bring himself to, too lost in the fear of Eric's death. He knew he should have been focusing, knew he should have been caring more about how they were going to go about catching the true criminal, but he just couldn't zone back in. The possibility of Eric being lost forever had numbed him, made his eyes and ears glaze over, his movements become mechanical. His fingers and toes were cold, and he knew, vaguely, somewhere in his mind, that the other occupants of the room were staring at him sadly from time to time, probably wondering about his mental health. He had had a lot of big changes in a very small time, after all. Alan knew, however, that he just needed to rest.

The tea was helping. His hands were warming, the freezing cold seeping out of them the same way it had got in, even through his gloves. Apparently, the leather gloves were not suitable for winter time in the Reaper Realm. He would have to buy some more, he supposed. Occasionally he would wake up enough to hear snatches of the conversation, enough to know that Jose was acting 'strangely' according to Nova, and that Kai, Lizbeth and Evelyn had all been completely unaware of his pregnancy. Somehow, Alan didn't really think that the topics mattered all that much. There was something niggling in the back of his mind, but he couldn't really access what the thought was, so he decided to ignore it. If it was truly important, he would eventually remember it. If not, it would stay at the edges of his mind until it faded away again. It was probably only that the washing-up needed to be done, anyway. He sighed.

"Alan?" Distantly, Alan heard his name, and he turned his head to look, not really understanding why he had, until his name was said again. "Alan, dear, can you look at me?"

"I am," he blinked, watching the ginger Evelyn as she leaned forwards. "Braylen has something to tell you, honey, and Jose and Nova wish to leave the room. Is that alright with you?"

"I wasn't keeping them in the room," he pointed out stupidly, waiting for his brain to start functioning properly once more. "But yes, they may leave. What did you want?"

He turned towards Braylen and his husband.

"You're pregnant," Braylen said frankly, Alan wanting to interrupt, but unable as the other man cut his words off again. "And that means that eventually, you're going to have thirteen children. That means that you're going to have to move house, Alan."

"But-" Alan interrupted, eyebrows furrowing. Eric and he lived in this house. This house reminded him of Eric. It was Eric's. And now Braylen expected him to move out of it. Alan felt a twinge of betrayal, though he didn't mention it. From Braylen's slight wince, Alan could tell the other man was sorry, and that he hadn't hidden his feelings very well, but Braylen wasn't sorry enough to stop, it seemed, as he interrupted once more.

"No 'but's," holding his hands up to withhold arguments, Braylen stopped Alan as the little brunette opened his mouth once more. "You need to move house. That is final."

"I haven't the money," Alan pointed out, thanking Jose as he placed a plate of food in his lap, before leaving the room to go and get some more. It appeared that what he had left in the kitchen to cook was ready now. Alan had little idea where Nova was, but Jose looked a little awkward. Had something happened between him and Nova? Alan didn't know, and he hadn't the energy to be particularly interested. All he wanted to do was sleep.

"You don't need any money," Braylen informed him, leaning back against Roger as the pale man took the other's dark hand into his, their fingers interlocking, creating a stripy pattern. Alan studied it with interest. "The Hospital provides the houses for the families. They give them a bedroom for the parents, a nursery, a kitchen, some bathrooms, a living room, a dining room and thirteen bedrooms for the children, along with a nursery and other rooms that are deemed necessary. Seeing as this is not something that was chosen by the Reaper, they aren't expected to provide for such large families on their own. We need to make it over and decorate it accordingly, so you can stay here for now. You will, however, have to move out eventually."

"Grell didn't," Alan knew he sounded childish, and looked it, pouting the way he did, but he couldn't help it. He was tired, hungry, annoyed and emotional. He couldn't be expected to stay strong and sensible all the time, could he?

"Grell has a house that has the correct number of rooms in it already." Roger pointed out, his face serious. "We asked."

Alan had nothing to say to that, so he fell silent, deciding that eating his cooling dinner was the best strategy that he had for that moment. Before long, however, the nagging thought that he had had earlier had come to light. He could talk to Lance about this. The man was the only other man in the country that had the Thorns, so therefore he was the only likely candidate to know someone who was stealing the souls, surely. Glancing up, finishing his dinner quickly, Alan opened his mouth to speak.

"We should talk to Lance," he murmured, causing the other guests to talk to him.

"Why?" Kai asked, looking at Alan blankly. "Who's Lance?"

"Lance Knight," Roger murmured, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. "He's at the Hospital. He happens to suffer from the Thorns, and it's quite likely that he might know someone who is collecting souls. Or it would be, if he ever had visitors…"

"I agree," Braylen replied, standing up and collecting up used plates, before walking over to the doorway. He stood in it for a second, his long black hair falling down around his shoulders, for once not tied into a bun. "Mr Knight would be our best shot, but Roger's right. He has no visitors. If he has no visitors, then there is no one out there that would be willing to save him, is there? It was a good plan, Alan, but it just won't work, I think."

"Still," came the slightly tense voice of Nova, her shoulders stiff as she brushed past Braylen and back into the room, not going back to the footstall that Jose had been sitting on, but instead sliding onto the floor by Kai. She shot a glare at Jose, but there didn't appear to be a great deal of harm in it. "It's the best shot we have at the moment. If we find something else by morning, then we'll do something else, but I think the first stop tomorrow is going to be the Hospital."

Braylen nodded and slipped out the room, taking the plates with him, but the rest of the room kept talking without him. Small murmurs were making the room fill up with a soft humming sound, but Alan didn't know what everyone was talking about. Furthermore, he wasn't invited into any of the conversations. A pool of frustration wormed its way into his stomach, but before he could snap at anyone to allow him to understand what was going on, the talking died down and Braylen came back into the room. It appeared people had been planning things, and they wanted to share their thoughts now.

"Lizbeth and I think that half of us should get some sleep for tomorrow, and that half of us should stay up tonight and work on finding out some other information. If you want to go and question Mr Knight tomorrow, then I suggest that you sleep." Evelyn looked directly at Alan, and he nodded, accepting that. He knew it was going to be hard to get to sleep, but he was exhausted, and he did need to see what Lance had to say, no matter if it was useful or not. "Alan, Braylen and Roger, we think you should get to bed tonight. Braylen, you're a doctor, so you really do need to sleep anyway, and the same goes for you, Roger. Alan, you're going to see Lance, no questions asked. We can send one more with him. Who wants to go?"

"I will," Nova stood up, folding her arms and wearing a face that dared people to cross her only if they wanted to die. "I want to see what this Lance has to say for himself, because if it's his fault that Eric is being executed in a few months' time, I'm not going to have that."

"I doubt it will be Lance's fault," Alan replied, eyes raising towards the blonde girl's own eyes. "He doesn't have the strength to get out of bed, most days. He's angry, yes, and insulted that the world has dealt him the hand that he has, but he doesn't seem to be the type to blame other people for his own gain, if you know what I mean?"

"Humph," Nova sank back down again, this time onto the white arm of the sofa. "I suppose you're right. People with the Thorns don't have the strength, not when they're exceeding the expected amount of time to be alive, anyway. He's supposed to have died last year, isn't he?"

"I suppose," Alan murmured, eyes bright. "But then again, I was supposed to have died a few months before I was cured, so…"

"But don't you find it suspicious, Alan?" Nova questioned, arms folded. "I mean, I know you're generally very trusting of people, but even you have to admit that that is suspicious."

"I suppose," Alan replied again, looking down and fiddling with his hands. They were cold, he noticed, not for the first time. Sighing, he tensed, ready to stand up, only to be stopped by Kai's voice.

"Jose, Evelyn and I will see if we can find any other leads. I'm sure Lizbeth can sneak into the Dispatch building. She's often called in this late at night," he checked his watch, just to be sure and nodded. "Yes, she's often called in at this time of night. I'm sure she could go in and search for any files she can find on Lance."

"Yes," Lizbeth murmured, pushing her dark auburn hair away from her face. "I'll do that. So long as I get a coffee soon. It's late, and we're going to be up all night, after all."

"I'll get it," Jose said, pushing himself up. "Alan, go to sleep. You look dead on your feet. Braylen, Roger, make sure he doesn't try to do anything stupid in the night. I set up two mattresses on the floor for you in that room, just to be sure, seeing as this house has one spare bedroom. All the more reason why you're going to need a new house, Alan."

Alan sighed, before nodding and standing. Jose was right. He was falling asleep in his chair. Softly, slowly, Alan moved out of the room and up the stairs, Braylen and Roger following behind him. The two paused at the door to his bedroom, allowing him time to change into his pyjamas. He did put his trousers on, but despite knowing it was silly, he put Eric's sleep shirt on. It was cold and cool, but it smelt like Eric, and it made him relax a little.

After brushing his teeth, Alan came back into the bedroom, only to find Braylen and Roger lying down on one of the small mattresses on the floor, claiming that the other was needed should any of the ones staying up all night decided that they simply couldn't carry on and had to sleep. Nodding, even though he knew it was just because neither would be able to sleep without the other, them having been together for so long now, Alan crawled into bed, removed his glasses and huddled up under the blankets. It was cold, and he buried his face into Eric's pillow, closing his eyes and hoping for a dreamless sleep.

He got his wish. Hearing the sound of the kettle boiling, Alan felt himself relaxing somewhat, his tense muscles allowing his body to become floppy and comfortable in the mattress. His swirling thoughts started fading, and he felt himself drifting off peacefully into blackness, ready to awaken fresh in the morning. He would be more stable in the morning, he promised himself, and he would be able to fight for Eric properly. He wouldn't let the blonde be executed. He gave himself the last of his waking moments that night to mourn for the loss that had just occurred, and when he woke up, he wouldn't be in mourning for Eric's near-loss. He would be fighting to get Eric back. Heaving one last sigh, Alan fell asleep, knowing what he would have to do.

…..

The next morning, Alan had woken at the same time as Braylen and Roger, and the two had got dressed into their work clothes, slipping out very early to get to the hospital for their shifts. They wouldn't be interrogating Lance, but it was nice to know that they would be in the hospital, just in case. Nova, on the other hand, was still in bed when Alan was washing himself for the morning. She only awoke once Alan was down in the kitchen, eating breakfast. He was stronger today, as he had promised, and looked much more presentable.

Nova walked in, hair tied into a messy bun and a simple pink gown on, the bustle modest and the train only short. It matched with her pink glasses frames, and she did look rather spectacular, though still a little sad. Alan couldn't have said why. Perhaps it was due to Eric's imprisonment. That, he decided, was the most likely explanation he could find.

Wordlessly, he held out a cup of breakfast tea towards her, and she took it gratefully. Sipping it carefully, he watched as she relaxed a little, before she pulled the fruit bowl across the table and dug out an apple, biting into it easily.

"They failed, you know," she murmured, looking around the kitchen with interest. There were mugs scattered here, there and everywhere, each one with the last dregs of cold coffee in them. She sniffed pointedly, before sighing and sitting down. "They're all asleep in there. Jose, Kai, Evelyn and Lizbeth. All of them are asleep. How they could be, I can't possibly see. Just look at how much caffeine they've drunk last night!"

"I suppose," Alan replied, pushing some freshly made toast towards her. Nova shook her head and made to push it back, but Alan insisted, telling her that their conversation with Lance may take a while. He may even be asleep when they were going to visit, so she might as well eat enough to keep her going until lunchtime. Reluctantly, Nova agreed. "But then again, they had been up since six in the morning yesterday. Surely they're allowed some time to sleep. They have files scattered everywhere. I'm sure they've at least made some progress. They're all free today, so they can carry on when they've woken up."

"I suppose," Nova flicked her head to the right, shifting some of the golden-blonde strands from in front of her face, before levelling her gaze with Alan's again. She narrowed her eyes, studying him carefully. Strands of hair fell back over her glasses, and Alan could have laughed at the failed attempt to get the hair out of her eyes, if he actually felt like laughing. He wasn't mourning anymore, but he was definitely not happy. Eric would need to be safe before he could be properly happy, after all. "You've changed."

"Sorry?"

"You've changed. You look a lot better than you did last night." Nova's eyebrows furrowed, and Alan realised that he looked a lot more with it and held together than she did that morning. She looked very fragile, like a beautiful, ancient glass vase that could fall apart at any moment. She was cracked. Beautiful, but ready to break down. Sighing, Alan placed his half-full tea cup down.

"I've realised that it would be more beneficial to keep it together and stay strong. If I break down, what use will I be in getting Eric out of that place?"

"Fair enough," Nova shrugged, sipping her tea again, and finishing her toast. Some spark came back behind her eyes. "Well then. Let's both be strong, so we can both rescue Eric. I'm not going to leave one of my best friends behind. I promise you, Alan."

"Neither am I," Alan smiled slightly, eyes connecting with Nova's in a promise. "So let's finish eating and get down to the hospital. It's about time we started, don't you think?"

….

"You're back again, are you?" Came a cheerful voice from behind him. Eric turned and sighed when he saw who it was. He was back out in the courtyard, and it seemed that the fight that had occurred the day before had been between the two people he absolutely hated and Kinsley Foley and Finn Harrison, two people that he used to hang out with before. Morgan, Charles, Willie and Dangelo were with him at the table already, so he wasn't really surprised that the two men were drawn to the group. "Whatever did you do this time?"

"Nothin'," Eric growled, slamming his fist onto the table. "Tha's wha' I'm tryin' to explain to these numpties. They jus' don' ge' it. I've no' done anythin' this time."

"This time?" The black haired Finn slunk over to the table and sat down at the far end on the opposite side, eyes connecting with Eric's. "That means you were in for something last time. Why do you still refuse to tell us?"

"Yeah," Kinsley agreed, flicking his long ginger hair back, his freckles moving as his face stretched into a smile. "Why won't you tell us?"

"Because it's gonnae seem cruel and insensitive." Eric pointed out. Dangelo was sitting directly opposite him, and the man was dying of the Thorns. Willie would do anything he could to save Dangelo, and would gladly get out of the prison to do the same thing for Dan now that it had been proven that it worked, but he couldn't. He was closely watched over, now more than ever, and he couldn't ever leave. "And 'cause I can' think abou' it a' the momen'."

"I seriously suggest you tell us," Willie's voice darkened. "I don't want to be spending my time with a murderer. And certainly a murderer who got away with it. So you best start talking, Slingby."

Eric felt a small smile twitch at his lips. There he was. There was the boy who cared about people and about right and wrong. Though it seemed like Willie was cold, sarcastic and had completely warped morals, Eric knew that deep down the boy was kind, caring and felt very strongly about justice. Sometimes, on rare occasions, Willie even let that side show. Somehow, he felt that he should tell Willie the truth. The boy deserved it, after his little display of actual caring. Though Eric had no idea where to start.

"…" He tried, opening his mouth. No sound came out. He closed it again. Where had all his daring Scottish stubbornness gone now? Scowling, he looked down at his hands and narrowed his eyes at them in a glare.

"Wow. Really?" Willie asked, raising his eyebrow. "Really? I'm sitting at the same table as a murderer. Really? Do you even know who you killed?"

Eric nodded, deciding to start this the only way he knew how. "Alan."

"Alan?" Dangelo asked, looking worried and confused, though a keen spark of anger was directed at Eric. He sighed. "You killed Alan? But wasn't he here to see you?"

"Was it attempted murder?" Charles asked. "I can't say I'm going to forgive you if it was, but if Alan wants to forgive you, then far be it from me to stop the idiot."

"I didn' kill Alan," Eric gritted his teeth, head shooting up to glare at the group at the table. "I could never kill Alan. I killed for Alan."

"If you killed for him, then why isn't he down with you? Surely, if he's the brains behind it, and you care for him so much, wouldn't you want him to be with you here?"

"Alan didn' know I was killin' people," Eric ground out, hands clenched into fists on the table. Despair was taking over Eric, his mind getting trapped in his memories. His memories were of the time that Alan was dying, fading, slowly disappearing, never to be seen again. He remembered the pain he felt each day, noticing Alan looked thinner, greyer, sicklier. He remembered the worry and the pride that swelled within him each day as he watched Alan fight to do things himself, determined not to become weak and unimportant.

Memories skipped on ahead, taking him to the guilt that he felt each time he sliced down a person for their innocent soul, the true and utter hatred of himself when he took down a child. It wasn't his fault though. He couldn't stop. He couldn't let Alan die. The world had to see that. They had to know. He remembered Alan's furious, outraged expression throughout his trial, remembered the name of every soul he had stolen, the potential and he felt his teeth clenching. Without Alan there with him, in the prison, he could feel everything. There was no one there to forgive him. No one there to say that though they couldn't condone his actions, they could love him forever.

A hand clasped onto his wrist, and he felt his memories snap themselves away. Looking up, he met Dan's eyes, and the silver haired boy smiled at him, the same sickly look about him that Alan used to have.

"Will, why don't you leave it alone? Can't you see the regret that he's feeling?"

"No," Willie folded his arms, a petulant pout on his face. "I'm not going to drop it. Charles isn't going to drop it. Actually, other than you, I'm fairly certain that none of us on this table are going to drop it. Now, Slingby. Who did you kill, and why?"

"Thousands," Eric murmured, making them all lean forwards, trying to pick up the quiet word.

"What?" Willie's voice was starting to grow frustrated and impatient.

"Thousands," Eric replied, voice stronger. "I killed one thousand people, and I could tell you all their names, if you wanted me to."

"One thousand-" Willie voice broke off with a choke, and he looked at Eric with such horror and fury in his eyes that Eric couldn't help but lean away from him. "How did you ever escape the death penalty? You're a monster!"

"Alan," Eric replied, causing Willie to clench his fists in anger.

"You keep saying that, but what does it _mean_? Alan is a name. You clearly care for this man more than I thought was possible. But what do you _mean_?"

"I couldn' le' him die," Eric bent his head down, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders hunched. He was fully expecting Willie and the rest to either walk away, or start up verbal attacks, or even real ones, but he felt so awful about what he had done that he didn't blame them if they wanted to kill him. At that point in time, even _he_ wanted to kill him.

"What do you mean?" Dangelo said gently, clearly knowing that the best way to get Eric to talk was with softness in that moment. Eric looked up, surprise in his eyes. "You couldn't let Alan die. We understand that. But what do you mean?"

"Alan was a lo' like you, yer know?" Eric murmured, looking at the silver haired man. "He's swee' and kind, and he listens. Bu' he was more like you than tha'. He had the them too, yer know?"

"Them?" Dangelo looked confused for a second, before his eyes widened in realisation. "You mean the Thorns, don't you?"

Eric nodded.

"But Eric… You must know that the cure is only a myth. It doesn't work. It was a story made up to give people hope. But it is still only a story…"

"It's no'," Eric replied, calmly, his emotions still in turmoil. "It's no'. No' a' all."

"Yes it is," Dangelo insisted, reaching out to hold Eric's hand. "The reason you were let off… Was it because you're mad? At least a little bit?"

"Damn righ' I'm mad," Eric growled, causing everyone at the table to jump back a bit, and for Dangelo to release his hand very quickly. "I'm bloody mad 'cause I've been locked up again. Why would I need to go and kill more people fer their souls when I've already cured my Alan?"

"Cured him?" Charles' voice cut in. "I doubt it."

"Ask the Doctors. Ask Doctor Lawrence-Robinson or Nurse Lawrence-Robinson." Eric growled, leaning back again. "Bu' do yer know why I'm really, really mad? It's 'cause they've locked me up in here when Alan's ou' there carryin' my babbie. And he shouldn' 'ave to do it alone."

Everyone on the table looked at each other with wide eyes, before Dangelo and Morgan spoke up.

"We'll help," they said, before marching off towards their own wing of the prison.

"Where are they off to?" Eric asked, eyes searching the other occupants of the courtyard.

"Probably to sign out of the prison and go and find your Alan," Willie murmured, turning away from the retreating backs of his friends. "And do you know? For once, I don't disagree with their actions."

….

Lance had been asleep for two hours, and Nova and Alan had been tossing idle conversation between them for all that time, waiting for the man to wake up on his own. It wouldn't do for him to fall asleep while they were questioning, after all. And if they woke him up before he was ready, it was very likely that that was all that was going to happen.

Finally, a shifting could be heard coming from the bed, and then a small groan could be heard. The two waited with bated breaths, hoping for the best, and were relieved when they saw the blonde sit up and start tucking his pillows up against the headboards behind him. He then leant back against them, reaching out for his glasses and slipping them onto his face, before tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't noticed Nova and Alan, it seemed.

Quietly, Alan stood, before padding softly over to his bed. When the blonde saw Alan, he raised an eyebrow, but made no other sign of recognition. Even when Nova followed, he barely moved.

"Well then," he ran has hands through his hair, folding the blonde strands back. "What do you want this time, Mr Humphries, Miss…?"

The last part of his sentence was a question, and Nova walked around to the other side of the bed before answering it. Lance looked a little insulted to have been kept waiting for so long, but he didn't say anything. Alan was glad. He wasn't entirely sure he could deal with a fight today. He had only come to ask some questions, and it wasn't like Lance could be the perpetrator. He was too weak for that.

"My name is Nova Berry," Nova dipped her head in way of a greeting, and Lance nodded back, before turning his attention back towards Alan. He asked what they wanted again, but just before Alan could reply, Nova spoke up.

"I don't know if you're aware, but Eric Slingby has been arrested once more, for the same crime as before. However, we are aware that he is not the culprit. We are searching for the true culprit."

Lance eyed the other blonde for a moment, before leaning back and closing his eyes, a faint smile plastered on his face. "This is getting more and more interesting by the day. Love him, do you?"

Nova frowned and shook her head, insisting that she loved Jose Snider, a black haired man that worked in Collections. Lance just chuckled at that, his eyes sliding open a little way, enough to study her face. They slipped shut again after a few seconds, and the blonde shook his head, the strands making a soft sound against his pillows.

"No you don't, Miss Berry. You don't love him at all. In fact, I can guarantee you now that you love Mr Slingby. Besides, even if you did love Mr Snider, I can see it in your eyes that he doesn't love you. You've been replaced, haven't you? You've been replaced." His eyes drifted over to Alan. "You're always replaced."

"That's not true!" Nova cried, eyes wide with fear and anger. "It's true that I dated Eric once, but we decided – mutually, might I add – that we would be better as friends, not lovers. Besides, I can see how important Alan is to him. Even if I did love him – which I don't – I wouldn't stop him from having happiness."

"Of course," Lance nodded, reaching out and patting the hand that was clenched in his bed sheets. Alan watched as she snatched it back, eyes wide and head reeling from what he was hearing. Lance opened his eyes and chuckled slightly when he saw Alan's face, causing the brunette to snap his attention away from Nova and back onto the blonde on the bed. "You know what, Miss Berry? Why don't you go and sit over there. Mr Humphries and I best talk, but I don't think you're going to be any use. You need to compose yourself. You're quite flustered."

"No, I –" Alan looked at her, brow furrowed. They were going to have to talk, it seemed, and it seemed as if he had just found another potential lead. Besides, he didn't need Lance to get distracted talking about her love life. It really would be best if she left them alone for a while. It appeared that Nova saw his expression, because she raised a hand to her chest and bowed her head, nodding slightly. "I- I suppose that I should compose myself. Yes. I'll just… I'll just go and sit down over there."

She gestured towards the row of chairs near the door, and Alan nodded, watching her go and then turning his attention back towards Lance.

"What was that?" He hissed. It was none of his business who Nova loved, especially if she wasn't planning to do anything about it anyway. Now that he knew, she had turned into a suspect, and he was kicking himself for seeing her in that light. If Lance had just kept his hurtful mouth shut for one moment, one tiny little moment, then maybe… Well, maybe he wouldn't have to suspect someone who had before seemed entirely innocent to him. "Why did you humiliate her, Mr Knight?"

"Because I know why you're here," he replied, settling back into his pillows. Alan heard some of his bones pop. "And I know that you think that I might know something. But I don't. The only person I can see in this room that might possibly be a suspect is her, so I just made you see it. There's no need to get so angry with me, Mr Humphries. Now, if you would excuse me, I'd like to sleep. I really can tell you nothing. I don't know anyone outside of the hospital anymore, and no one here cares enough to save my life."

Alan was about to argue, but before he could, he realised that Lance was telling the truth. Nodding, he showed that he accepted what Lance had to say, but he stared at Lance for a good few seconds afterwards nevertheless. Finally, realising that Lance was going to say absolutely nothing else, he sighed and thanked Lance, before walking back towards Nova. She looked nervous, and Alan could see that she had been wringing her hands together. Sighing, he looked down at her, and she looked up at him, eyes big and haunted.

"I don't blame you," Alan murmured, holding out a hand to help Nova up. Cautiously, her hand reached up and her fingers slipped into his leather-gloved palm. She rose, still looking pale and flustered. "Eric is a wonderful man. I'm just sorry that you felt that you couldn't tell me."

"Please, Alan," she whispered, looking down. "You have to understand. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell Eric. You're both important to me, and I couldn't lose either of you."

"I understand," Alan promised, smiling a little smile, before releasing her hand. She stepped backwards a bit, a small, sad smile on her face.

"I'm not the one who's trying to get him executed, either," she promised, eyes searching Alan's. "I couldn't do that to either of you."

"I know," Alan promised her, smiling gently. "I don't think it is you."

"Thank you!" Nova exclaimed, reaching up and hugging Alan. Alan froze in shock for a moment, before holding her gingerly back. He wasn't used to receiving hugs from friends, especially not those who weren't very close to him at all. "I'm so glad, Alan. You have no idea. We're still friends, aren't we?"

"Of course," Alan nodded, his face blank as he stared over her shoulder. He could hear the small smile in her voice as she thanked him once more, but he knew that this hug was the perfect opportunity to sort out his emotions and morph his face into a more appropriate expression. He had lied to Nova, or course. He had told her that he didn't believe that it was her that was doing this, but as much as he wanted to believe that, he couldn't quite make himself. She had the opportunity and the reason, after all. And there were no other leads. Plastering a small smile onto his face, Alan pulled back, and the two of them walked out of the hospital, Nova looking like a great weight had been taken off of her shoulders, and Alan feeling as if it had been dropped onto his instead.

…..

Jose stood, making more coffee, in the kitchen, waiting for the rest of the group to find anything. They had been working for a good two hours since they woke up, and all of them were tired. Sighing, he played the image of raven hair and a delicate face through his mind, the dark eyes and the pale skin dancing and weaving through it. He had broken up with Nova the night before, but he didn't regret it. He knew she was in love with Eric, after all, and he just didn't feel like their relationship had been working out. Neither of their hearts had been in it.

Sighing, he poured out the boiling water, before jerking upright and spilling some of the water onto his thumb. Hissing, he replaced the kettle onto the hob and sucked his thumb as he walked back into the living room, looking around at the excited and happy faces of the people in the room.

"What is it?" He asked, seeing their expressions. "Have you found something?"

"Have we ever?" Lizbeth asked, auburn hair tangled and messy, falling into her face in an embarrassingly homeless looking way. "Look here. There's a woman that apparently used to be close to Lance. Maybe… well… I mean…."

Her voice trailed away, and Jose knew why. 'Used to be' was not the same as 'is', so what they had was a long shot. Then again, it was better than nothing.

"She might be someone to check out," Jose said, coming further into the room. "What's her name?"

"Her name?" Evelyn said, holding up a sheet of paper. "Is Mrs Rebecca Alford."

"Oh," Jose said, remembering the woman that she was talking about. "Well, things just got more difficult."

…..

Braylen rushed down to the hospital reception, having heard from a nurse that two people were waiting for him down there. It wasn't long before he was down there, and another nurse rushed over, leading him towards a small spare room just off of the reception's waiting area. Taking a deep breath and opening the door, Braylen wondered what to expect. He had no idea what was going on, or why the people were there, but he had heard it was urgent. Finally ready, he swung the door open, only to be greeted with three faces that he had never seen before.

One had silver hair, was unnaturally thin and covered in tattoos, his glasses with the same silver frame. He was sitting down on a chair with a woman sitting next to him. She was pretty, with warm, flushed skin and rosy cheeks. Her eyes were big and bright green, her hair brown and falling in waves around her shoulders. Her glasses were framed with a dark, metallic grey, and she had no tattoos, though she was wearing a ring on her right ring finger. It matched the one that the silver haired boy was wearing. They appeared to be engaged.

The final face was staring at him from the far wall, pale skin and thin, bright green eyes unnerving him slightly. The man gave off an aura that made Braylen think that he spent a lot of time around demons. Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn't, but he wasn't making the doctor feel any more comfortable in the situation he was in. The boy had shaggy black hair, tattoos that were very similar to the silver haired boy's, and bright blue glasses on his face. He was tall, a lot taller than Braylen, and muscular. Swallowing a little nervously, Braylen stepped further into the room and began to talk.

"I am Doctor Lawrence-Robinson. You asked for me, I have been told."

"Yes," the silver haired boy stood up and came forwards, his hand held out as if to shake Braylen's hand. Accepting the handshake a little awkwardly, Braylen was relieved when it was finally over. "We did."

"Who are you?" Braylen asked, feeling as a strand of his long black hair fell out from his messy bun, and out from under the cap he was wearing. He had literally just left surgery, and had hurried to the emergency visit, not able to change his attire in the short amount of time he had had.

"My name is Dangelo Patton, that over there is Morgan Edwards, and this here is Jenny Silva."

"And what is it you want?" Braylen asked, eyeing them with confusion. So he knew who they were now, but still… It wasn't really enough for them to be trustworthy in his eyes.

"Eric Slingby sent us. We're here to help."

Realisation dawned on Braylen. Well, he supposed. At least the team that Alan had working to free his lover was large enough to cover every aspect that they would need to. Braylen nodded, ready to send them to the place they needed to be if they were going to be any help at all.

"Jose Snider and Kai McFadden are waiting for you there." He informed them, watching as they filed out, before leaving right behind them. "Make sure you tell them why you're here."

"We will," Morgen promised, voice strong. "We're not going to let the father of someone's children die, after all. And we're fairly certain that we will be assets to the team."

"I agree," Braylen said, before nodding to them and watching them file towards the hospital doors. Alan, he decided, was in for a big surprise.

 **Author's Note: Okay, so the ending is kind of useless! I'm sorry for that! I just didn't really know how to end it. Well, at least it is an ending. I've finally got this chapter up! I kept meaning to, and then finding myself unable to write for some reason or another. I am going to be busy during the week next week, but I'll post as soon as I can, and probably more often the week after that, seeing as it's the Christmas holidays!** **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review! It's very helpful for me to improve.**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Author's Note: So, basically, to anyone following this story, I'm** _ **really**_ **sorry I haven't updated in so long. It has been Christmas and New Year, so you can understand how hectic that can be when you have a family the size of a small country (or a large one, seriously, I keep discovering new people that are related to me in one form or another). Anyway, you'll be pleased to hear I haven't abandoned the story, just got side-tracked. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only my own characters and this storyline.**

One Thousand Souls Chapter Fourteen

It had been two months since Alan had first received information claiming that Rebecca Alford may be the Reaper to watch, and two months since Jenny, Dangelo and Morgan had joined the rather large band working to free Eric. He was still living in the Shinigami prison, probably getting more and more gloomy the longer it took Alan to find any worthwhile information. The brunette certainly was, himself. In fact, he had all but lost hope. Of course, around the others he would never say such a thing, but he could feel it inside, feel it when he worked. All of the junior officers within his office could see it.

Ronald could tell, too. Generally, the young Reaper stayed away from Alan. The brunette didn't mind, though. Being able to see that Ronald was worried about Eric, but had problems of his own at the time made Alan forgive him. William and Grell… well, that was different, wasn't it? Surely having a psychopath and a stoic, angry man on their side would not go down well with the authorities. More murders and fighting would not help their cause of saving Eric, after all. Besides, Grell was further along in her pregnancy than he himself was, and, though the man would never admit it, Alan knew that William was very nervous, and trying to get used to the idea of being a father. He had seen it on his face at times, and he knew the same expression flitted across his own features, there when the sheer enormity of the task of being a single mother weighed down on him.

Shinigami children were often more of a challenge to handle than human children, and those that were born were often targeted by demons. Knowing he had all his friends to rely on helped him, but Alan was still aware at how unprepared he was to look after a child all on his own. Eric was supposed to be there with him, helping him and holding his hand every step of the way. While he himself was independent, Eric was older, and therefore knew a lot more than he did. Plus, Eric had always had a life to look ahead to, and Alan had never even considered, not even once, that he may have children – or even a single child – once the Thorns were cured. Not until he became pregnant, anyway.

Sighing and shifting in the normal room of the hospital, Alan clenched his jaw and waited. He was becoming moodier than ever, he had noticed, and often snapped at people for no reason. Even his friends were starting to get annoyed at him for it, but Jenny and Dangelo had both stuck by him, understanding. They forgave him when he snapped at them, as both of them knew that he had many hormones rushing about in his body, and a lot of stress hanging over his head. Jenny did whatever she could to relieve that stress, as she knew it wasn't good for the baby, and Dangelo offered support and friendship to Alan when he needed it most. The three had become a close-knit group, more so than Alan had been with his older friends, save for Braylen and Roger, but he still had Evalyn and Lizbeth, and Dangelo and Jenny still had Willie.

Dangelo was sitting next to him on the bed, silver hair falling forwards over his face as he traced his fingers over the black tattoos running up his arms. Of course, Alan offered his own support to Dangelo, and the silver-haired man accepted it gladly, though looking as though he wished he could be stronger in front of Jenny. Alan assured him that it didn't matter, and the brunette woman often assured the other man herself, when she was around to hear him. Often, she was working, still needing to support herself despite all the problems surrounding the group. It seemed a joke to Alan. What use was money? Why have money, or a house, or anything at all? Who had the time to go out and buy food or new clothes or tidy their houses anymore? He certainly didn't, and he knew that most of his friends didn't. In fact, his house was so scattered with folders and notes that the group used whilst searching that barely a spot of floor could be seen. Temporarily, it would be their base, until Alan moved to his new house, which was still being decorated, so that he would have the space for the baby. He shifted again.

"I think," Dangelo murmured, breaking Alan's train of thought, "That maybe Doctor Montoya or Nurse Hewitt might have remembered to bring the device for listening to heartbeats within a pregnant person's stomach. It would seem to be a part of their job, after all."

Humming in agreement, Alan turned when he heard Dangelo sigh, eyes widening at the look of concern on his friend's face. He didn't know why Dangelo was concerned. Looking at the other man, you would think he was already dead. He was practically wasting away, looking only marginally better than Lance did, who was still lying in the bed across the room, sleeping, his blonde hair splayed across his pillow. Both had very sharp cheekbones and hollow looking cheeks, though somehow, Dangelo had managed to keep his angelically good looks, whilst Lance just looked like a fresh corpse. Wondering if that was how he had looked when he was sick, Alan just sighed again and turned away, turning his gaze back towards the door.

"Are you stressed?" Dangelo asked, his voice quiet. Looking across again, the brunette could see that the silver-haired man was trying very hard not to look over in Lance's direction. Raising a brow, Alan just frowned and shook his head, before turning away again. A small, breathy and humourless chuckle escaped from Dangelo's mouth. "Sorry, that was a silly question. Of course you're stressed. Something is different about today's silence. It's almost as if you have just…"

Before he could figure out what he had just done, the door swung open again, allowing both Doctor Montoya and Nurse Hewitt to hurry through, both smiling and out of breath. They were excited because Alan was showing obviously now. Alan was frowning because of the same reason. It wasn't that he didn't want to be pregnant, but every time he caught his reflection in the glass he couldn't help but wince, reminded of his promise to save Eric and to raise this child, these children. Which one it was, he didn't know.

Still dazed and practically blocking out the world, Alan followed instructions obediently. Lying back when told to and lifting up his shirt, he barely even flinched at the cold of the trumpet-like device that was used for hearing the heartbeat of the children, the device that would determine how many children he was going to have.

He merely blinked when told, by Doctor Montoya, that he was carrying only one baby, not caring. He couldn't care, not anymore, not when he was so likely to fail. He had nothing to prove against Rebecca, had nothing to say he was succeeding in. His task to bring Eric home was becoming more and more of an impossibility with each day. All he wanted to do was lie on his bed and give up, not caring that he had promised himself that he would get Eric out. So when he was given the all-clear and told he could go, he slipped off the bed and walked out the door in a daze, not noticing the worried looks that were exchanged between the remaining occupants of the room.

…

Dangelo watched Alan go and bit his lip. The brunette man that he had come to have such a strong friendship with was slipping away and giving up, becoming nothing but a shadow, the walking-dead. Of course, technically the man already was dead, but he was going to become even more so. He was going to be dead again, wasting away to nothing because he just didn't care, couldn't care, because he was being silly, with all the stress and hormones and the fear, and pushing all feelings and hopes away. Dangelo was determined to stop him from falling into the abyss, the one he shouldn't even be near, so, gathering himself, he pulled himself off the bed, glanced at the doctor and nurse in concern, and then walked out after Alan.

His pace wasn't fast, not wanting to trigger an attack, but then again, neither was Alan's. The brunette was walking slower than him, in fact, and Dangelo easily caught up. They didn't talk, however. Alan clearly wasn't up to it, and Dangelo didn't want to tip the brunette off to the plan that he had. He couldn't orchestrate it, he knew – it was his and Jenny's shift to go through the notes and paperwork and see if they could find any new connections. There was no sign of anything yet, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be. Knowing he and Jenny were the only two who saw it like that was a little disheartening, but he wouldn't pass up on a chance to do something useful, so he wasn't going to go to the prison. Jose, on the other hand…

Jose was standing outside the hospital, as he should have been, waiting for Robert or Braylen to exit the building with any information on Lance – if he had visitors, if he was leaving himself… So far there had been nothing, again, but that didn't mean anything. Lance had friends known to the group such as Rebecca Alford, so it was always a good idea to keep an eye on him. Furthermore, he was much more bitter about encroaching death than Alan had been, so much more determined to stop it, that it made sense to Dangelo that if anyone with the Thorns was going to go around stealing souls, it would be him. Whether he had the strength, though, that was a whole different matter. He supposed that having the strength could have nothing to do with it, more about determination, but he doubted it. That only really worked in books, he supposed, like Willie liked to read. Out loud. Especially to him.

Jose strolled closer, noticing the silver-haired man, and because Dangelo waited for the black-haired man, Alan walked further and further away, no hurry in his step. Flat and dull, they could pick Alan out of the crowd by the simple fact that he was not doing anything individual, or special to him, instead being the only one there to look like a robot – to look like one of the generally mindless sheep of the human race. Then again, Dangelo supposed that they weren't really mindless, only less enlightened to the world. Willie had always said that he sympathised with the humans too much.

"Has something happened?" Bobbing his head in the direction Alan had vanished, Jose broke Dangelo out of his thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen him looking so downtrodden."

"I think… I think he's given up." At Jose's shocked outrage that Alan could have given up on Eric, Dangelo huffed a breath through his nose. It wasn't the brunette's fault – well, it was partially, but Alan's depressing thinking could not be helped. Not if they continued on the way they were going. "Don't look like that. It's out fault, really. None of us have been encouraging him, just groaning and moaning because we can't find anything. It's already like we've handed the entire task over to him-"

Jose opened his mouth to protest, but Dangelo held up his hand to stop the other man.

"Not even handed it over," Dangelo continued, leading the way over to a bench and sitting upon it, Jose standing in front of him, directly before the sun. The silver-haired man had to squint and shade his eyes, but that didn't deter him from saying what needed to be said. "We've basically dropped it on his head. And he's pregnant, for Styx sake! He can't be this stressed all the time. I told him as much – _I_ told him to drop what was upsetting him, and clearly he did. He's dropped the whole cause. I'm not saying it's just your fault – I know you were thinking it, we both know that only Jenny and I even still _really_ look. I blame myself as much as I blame you, but we need to undo what's been done before it's too late."

Jose blinked down at Dangelo, shoulders tense, making the other worry that he was going to get angry. Instead, much to the tattooed man's relief, Jose only slumped his shoulders, sitting himself on the bench too.

"I know you're right. But Alan – well, he was the one to instigate this whole thing, and… We never really thought he could get Eric off this death-penalty thing in the first place." This time it was Dangelo who opened his mouth to interrupt, but was stopped by Jose carrying on quickly, speaking fast enough to alert the more perceptive man that interruptions would not be tolerated. "Don't get me wrong, I would absolutely love it if Alan could get Eric out, but Alan _needs_ the help of Eric for that, needs that big oaf to keep him strong, otherwise he'll never be able to do it. He practically worships Eric for a hero, or at least, he used to. He wouldn't say it now, but I know that he secretly still does view Eric in the same way and more, now. So how can we keep strong if Alan can't keep strong, because Eric isn't here?"

"I really do not understand your concept of friendship," Dangelo murmured, not realising that Jose could hear. Could hear and was tense and angry about what was being said. "Aren't you supposed to always believe in your best friend? Eric's your best friend, so don't give up on him. I would never give up on Willie. Never."

"Obviously," Jose pointed out. "But then again, Willie to you is more like a brother than a friend."

"He's more than a brother," Dangelo disagreed, tucking his hands under his legs to warm them, and looking up at the grey sky, the low-hanging sun like a white disc, blaring out painfully into his eyes. "But those words weren't meant to be said aloud. At least, not in front of you."

"Obviously," Jose repeated, narrowing his eyes at Dangelo. Dangelo responded by pulling his coat tighter around him and tucking his nose into the turned-up collar. "But I get the feeling you have a plan to get Alan back on track."

"I do."

"So tell me."

…

Jose sighed and quickened his step, glad to see the large prison building. At least it would be warm inside, even if all the inhabitants were either criminals or police-men, and it smelt funny within. The faint scent of demons could be smelt, not strong enough to tell him that there were any there now, but almost as if… Almost as if they regularly kept demons there. Or half-bloods. He doubted their prison would be where demons would go.

The warmth was a thing he was looking forward to, and so was seeing a certain maid that worked there, but talking with Eric was not something he wanted to do. The blonde would be angry or upset that Alan had lost hope, but either way, it was not good for him. Both could cause Eric to get overly emotional and act rashly. Sighing, and taking one last look up at the large building, Jose stepped through the door.

Immediately he was hit with the hustle and bustle that sometimes came and sometimes went. It depended entirely, apparently, on whether a certain duo in the prison got angry and started fighting again. Apparently, the two were good friends, but they had their disagreements, and the disagreements were loud, violent, and often caused innocent bystanders to get injured. Furthermore, adding to the ridiculousness of it, the object of their arguments was human, and didn't even remember the two of their existence. Pity rose within him, but it fell away, discarded by the distraction of having to speak to the man sitting at the desk.

The slightly overweight man heaved a sigh and filed through pages of information and the likes when Jose put in his request to see Eric. He knew that lots of paperwork had to be filed, but he also knew that Alan was working, and wasn't going to be there for a while. Moving down to the end of the desk and allowing another man to speak to the other receptionist, Jose went through the documents with the man, before finishing and being directed to sit over on a row of chairs, each of them with an occupant, either a bored looking policeman or an anxious looking Shinigami. Many had simple silver wire glasses, with little decoration, and it was clear that the people were from the Shinigami city. They were those that failed graduation from the Academy, those that kept the city running, and they all looked a little nervous about someone who could only work in the Dispatch department. Shrugging off their hurried, worried glances, Jose sat down.

An hour later, bored out of his mind, Jose was still waiting, his head hanging back off of his neck, his arms crossed and an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. His eyes were crossed, staring at nothing, and he was debating whether it would be acceptable to moan 'I'm bored' like a child would. Deciding against it, Jose tilted his head back up to where it should rest upon his shoulders, only to blink in surprise and thank Hades that he hadn't moaned, because there stood Miss Akiyama, maid uniform on, and a faint blush to her cheeks.

"May I bring you something to drink, Mr Snider?" she asked, her musical voice making Jose flush himself. He nodded. "Then I shall return shortly. Mr Allen would also like you to know that you should only be waiting another forty minutes before you are allowed to see Mr Slingby."

"Thank you, Miss Akiyama. Though, how many times I have asked you to call me Jose I don't know."

A faint smile rose to her lips, and hose couldn't hold back a smile in return. "Only around five times, Mr Snider."

"You've been keeping count, I see," the black-haired man teased, leaning back in his seat and studying her. She really was very beautiful, he could see, and she was such a nice person. It was a wonder she didn't work somewhere better than the hell-hole she was in. Surely she could have got a nice job as a waitress or a shop assistant in the Shinigami City. Then again, she was such a wonderful person that Jose was glad that she had a job in the prison, if only because it meant he had met her. "Then please, I think five is enough times. Call me Jose, Miss Akiyama."

Another flush rose to her cheeks. "As you wish, Jose. So long as you call me Maiko."

"Done." Jose reached out his hand, and her small one slipped into his, delicate and soft, despite the work she did. Letting go, he continued to grin at her, and her at him, until a light appeared to click in her eyes and they widened, an embarrassed flush lighting up her cheeks.

"Oh my goodness," she whispered, hands flying to her mouth. "Would you consider being a little less charming, Jose? I've completely forgotten about my job!"

Left chuckling softly, Jose watched as she hurried off in the direction of the kitchen and shook his head, wondering what, exactly, he was going to tell Eric.

…..

Eric faced Alan across the room. The brunette hadn't come to hug him yet. Instead, he had stood just inside the doorway with the greatest look of sadness and regret on his face that Eric wasn't sure if he wanted to hug the man and take the pain away, or shake him and tell him to pull himself together. The first one seemed more tempting, because that meant that he himself didn't have to add any more pressure onto the brunette, but the second option was more likely to succeed if he was going to get Alan back to his old self. Sighing, Eric pulled out the chair on his side of the table and sat down, still cuffed together at the wrists.

"Jose came to visit today." He said, watching as Alan mimicked his movements on the other side of the desk, though a faint flash of hurt was able to be seen in his eyes. Eric sighed. "He said yer've been up the hospital to see how many o' the little critter's yer're carryin'. So how many is it then?"

"Just one," Alan's voice was dull, and Eric winced. What was wrong with his precious love? He didn't know, but he was determined to fix it. "I'm glad. It will be easier to care for one on our first time."

"Yeah," Eric agreed, laying his head down on the table. He wasn't a good actor, by any means, but Alan was in such a world of his own that maybe he wouldn't notice the poor acting, instead just realise that Eric was in trouble here, and no matter how bad he had it out there, in the free world, at least he wasn't going to be killed at the end of it. "I suppose."

"I don't know the gender."

"I didn' ask fer the gender," Eric pointed out, bringing his face up off the table and staring at Alan through 'hopeless' eyes. "How would they know, anyway?"

"They wouldn't, I suppose." Despondency seemed to be the only thing he could get out of Alan today, so Eric decided to jump right in and hit the man where it counted. He may regret it later, but it appeared that there was no way to get Alan to talk and decide anything just then.

"Exactly. Still, one'll be better fer yer. Yer won' have to work so hard to look after it when I'm dead, will yer?"

Noticing a wince, Eric tried very hard not to wince himself. Wincing on the inside, but also smiling at making Alan feel at least a little, he decided to carry on. He could beat himself up over what he was doing later. Now was the time to get through to Alan, not beat around the bush and hope that the brunette got the hint. He needed to be simple and to the point, striking at the core.

"O' course, yer'll have more babbies one day, and they'll be easier ter look after. They'll 'ave a Daddy, won' they?"

Alan winced again, and quietly spoke. "Don't say that."

"Don' say wha'?" Eric asked, voice as cold as he could make it when he was looking at his love. They were always so kind to each other, he knew, hardly ever said a bad word to each other, not since their fight, and now, here he was being cruel again. This time, though, it had a point. "Tha' yer'll 'ave a new man? Bu' yer will, Alan. Yer know yer will. Yer've go' to, 'cause yer know they told yer tha' yer have ter have thirteen o' the little critters."

"I know," Alan responded, eyes focused on the table and fists clenched in front of him, the leather covering his hands going tight and shiny. "But they won't have another father. They can't have another father."

"Well, how can I be the father?" Eric asked, raising an eyebrow. Alan had looked up by then, and Eric was pleased to see that the light, the bright flame that showed the determination the brunette felt, was back into his eyes, small, but there, and getting stronger by the second, it seemed. "I won' be there."

"Yes you will." Alan declared, fists tightening even more, the leather making a nasty squeaking nose. "You have to be."

"How?"

Alan's hands slammed down flat on the table, and his eye's met Eric's, eyebrows furrowed angrily, his eyes seeming to glow with anger and determination. Biting back an exclamation of relief, Eric continued on with his strategy. Not only did he have to get through to Alan, but he had to make sure Alan stayed as determined as he was within the room everywhere he went, for just as long.

"You have to be," he declared as his hands slammed into the table, standing up and pushing his chair back. Had he not seemed so furious, Eric would have laughed. The man was four months pregnant, and he looked it! It was rather funny, though Alan's face said otherwise.

"How?" Eric asked again, standing up too. "I'm no' sayin' I won' be, bu' yer gonnae have to tell me how."

"Because," Alan said slowly, walking around the table and towards Eric, who stood his ground. "I am going to make sure of it. I am going to make sure the real culprit is found. I am going to see you freed, and I am going to make sure baby here," he gestured towards his stomach. "Meets Daddy. _Okay_?"

"Okay. Alright." Eric agreed, a smile twitching to his lips. There was his Alan. "Baby is a girl, is she?"

"Yes," Alan snapped, before realising what he had said and flushing red, eyes widening when he realised that he had snapped at Eric in the only time they had together. With such wide eyes and a bright flush, Eric really couldn't help his chuckle, causing the other man to blush darker. "Oh. I'm sorry I snapped. I keep doing that, but I don't mean to. I think it must be hormones."

"An' stress," Eric pointed out, eyes meeting Alan's and holding them. "Bu' it's alrigh', 'cause I still love you. Now, come here."

Doing as told, the smaller man stepped towards Eric and let out an exclamation of surprise when he felt himself pulled into a hug by the blonde, making Eric laugh once more. Pecking him on the lips quickly, Eric registered the pleased and content look on Alan's face as he melted into the embrace, smiling gently himself.

"There's my Alan," he said, kissing the brunette on the forehead. "Now, tell me wha's been happenin' since yer las' came ter visit, would yer? I'm so bored in here I think my brain's started to rot."

"That happened long ago, Eric." Alan murmured, snaking his arms up and wrapping them around the blonde's neck, sighing deeply and warming Eric's cold skin with his warm breath. "But a lot has been happening. I'm sure Will would like to know that Dan is doing fine."

"He would," Eric nodded, tightening his grip on his little man. Relief was still coursing through him, so he couldn't resist declaring it. "Tha's my Alan. Savin' me all the time, aren' yer?"

"Of course," Alan furrowed his eyebrows and poked Eric gently in the back of the neck, causing Eric to wince at how cold Alan's gloves were. He had been outside for too long, it seemed, and they had yet to warm up to any sort of comfortable degree. "If I didn't, who would?"

"Exactly," Eric agreed, eyes lightening up, knowing that Alan hadn't meant what he had said. Alan had lots of people he could rely on, and they both knew it. "Yer'll ge' me ou'. I jus' know it."

With that, he leaned his head down and connected their lips in a kiss, gentle and strong at the same time, reassuring and memorable. It was a kiss to tell Alan that he would always be there to support him, to remind him of who he was and what he stood for. As their mouths danced together, Alan's fingers curling into his hair and Eric's hands pulling the brunette closer, they both sighed, relieved that they had got over this minor bump in the road.

 **Author's Note: I know this was an awful piece of writing and I am also aware that the ending is terrible, but I haven't written in so long that I literally could not let that wait any longer, because it was starting to bug me that it wasn't done. Surely someone cares about what happened next, somewhere, so I've had to write this, because I know how annoying stories that you read but that don't update are. So, I hoped you enjoyed!** **Thank you!**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Author's Note: I'm sorry I keep taking so long to update, but I've finally got another chapter up, so enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, or any of the characters. I merely own this storyline, and the other fics that I've written, obviously.**

One Thousand Souls Chapter Fifteen

One month had passed since Alan had had his emotional trial, and since he had found he was carrying only one child. He had seen Eric four times since then, and was returning from a visit to the blonde, Jose and Maiko walking with him. Both had met him within the prison building, the both of them having been off of work that day, using up one of their holidays each to try to trail Rebecca Alford. Truly grateful to them, Alan had nodded to them and allowed them to walk with him. Neither of them seemed to mind the fact that he was constantly moody and stressed nowadays, so he did rather prefer their company to that of Kai or his own friend's. It seemed that Dangelo had spoken to them.

Beautiful and delicate, Maiko walked with her arm linked through Jose's. They were both appearing to enjoy each other's company, and Alan had to admit that he was a little jealous. Then again, if only they could find something on Rebecca, then maybe he could have his Eric back. Thinking about it made him grit his teeth, so he shook his head to disband the thoughts that were clawing at his mind.

"You know," Jose spoke, drawing Alan out of his distractions. Blinking, he turned his head to face the two, and they both looked rather pleased with themselves. Cocking his head, he raised an eyebrow in enquiry. "We think we found what you're looking for today."

"What do you mean?" Alan was confused. Did this mean they had finally found something against Rebecca? He very much hoped so. "Has Miss Alford-"

"Oh, _yes_ ," Maiko piped up, tucking a lock of silky midnight hair behind her ear. "We were in the market today, and then, out of nowhere, whilst she was supposed to be on work, Miss Alford showed up."

"You're sure it was her?"

"It couldn't be anyone else." Jose smirked, his spiky, shark-like teeth glinting in the moonlight. Alan shivered, reminded of Grell. The last time he had seen Grell's teeth in such dim lighting, glinting in such a manner, she had been about to kill someone, and laughing all the while. "She was tall, pale, unattractive, and so very, very moody. Seriously, no one is that moody, except maybe Mr Spears."

"She looked very stuck up, and she was wearing a very no-nonsense suit." Maiko continued. Looking around, she checked that nobody was listening, before leaning in across Jose, until she was close enough to whisper to and be heard by Alan. "But that isn't even the worst of it."

"Of course," Alan replied, nodding. He knew it couldn't have been the worst of it. Her being out in town in the middle of the day was hardly enough to get Eric off of this death sentence that was drawing every nearer. "What was she doing?"

"She went down an alleyway," Maiko allowed the hair to fall in front of her face, shielding her lips. She really didn't want anyone to know what she was saying in her soft, melodious voice. "And then she pulled out a scythe…"

Taking a deep breath, Maiko paused. Impatiently, Alan felt his heart beat quicken with anticipation. Looking around, just to give him something to do, he waited for the Japanese girl to continue.

"And then she Reaped the Soul of a child."

"Why didn't you stop her?" Eyes wide, Alan realised just what this could mean. Unless Dispatch were getting truly, truly desperate, then Mrs Alford would never be allowed near to a scythe. How had she got it? Why was she using it? What did she do with the soul? "It couldn't have been a scheduled death, surely."

"It wasn't." Jose confirmed, shaking his head. "No. She definitely didn't have a 'to die' list, and she appeared to be doing what I had done to collect the souls. The procedure I used to keep them. Nova, Eric and I all did it, so we would recognise it anywhere. Unless she is just starting, or thinks it's safe now… I couldn't tell you that, but I would use this information to your advantage."

"I must tell Mr Spears," Alan decided, turning, ready to go back to Dispatch. It was only seven, so it seemed rather likely that Mr Spears would still be in. Overtime was a thing that he appeared unable to escape, and Alan had to admit that he did feel sorry for the man. "He would be able to see if the soul was a one off, or if souls are starting to go missing again."

"We'll go," Jose smiled at Alan, before starting to head off with Maiko. Suddenly, he stopped, before patting himself down, smiling widely. "By the way, we have a surprise for you. We've finished your new house, all the rooms complete save for all of the bedrooms. Go and check it out. Enjoy."

With that, he dropped the keys into Alan's waiting glove and walked off, Maiko drawing her shawl closer around her as she leaned into the taller man. Smiling a little, Alan looked down at the key, before tucking it in his pocket, along with his hands. It was cold out, and his breath was clouding around him, but he was close to his new house. The neighbourhood that was built specifically for this new scenario was just a road over to the right, and then down an alleyway. From the keychain on the keys, Alan knew his house number was five. It shouldn't be too hard to find. Tucking his chin down to his chest, he took a turning he didn't normally take, and drew in his breath, eyes widening.

…

Two Reapers stood in his path. Both of them carried a scythe, and both had vaguely recognisable figures. One was feminine, one masculine, and both appeared to be threatening. Biting his lip, Alan drew his long black coat tighter around himself and stuck close to the walls lining the street, hoping that he wouldn't bring any attention to himself. The masculine one was holding up a wall, the other watching him, whilst flipping a scythe over and over in her hands.

They were members of a street gang, most likely. Some Reapers found the academy too much, and just fled it, leaving it for good, without giving themselves even a shot at passing any of the exams, even to be just a secretary. They normally took some sort of weapon so that they could fight Reaper authorities, and they lived on the streets, unable to find any sort of work anywhere. Normally, they stayed away from those who had passed exams, but these two looked like they wanted a fight.

Drawing nearer, Alan could see why. One, he saw, was someone he had doubted he would ever see outside of the hospital. Lance was leaning against a wall, his hair falling lank and greasy down his back. He certainly needed a shower. The other was Mrs Alford, silhouetted against the flickering light of a gas lamp that hung outside somebody's front door. Alan didn't know whose house it was, but he hoped they were home. He could see that both Reapers were up for a fight, but he didn't think he would last very long against Mrs Alford. He was tired, and stressed, and he just wanted to sleep. Furthermore, he didn't have a scythe on him. She did, which meant she was dangerous.

"Well, well, Mr Humphries," she smiled, a threat barely veiled in her voice. "I see you've been stalking me."

Raising an eyebrow, Alan stopped walking. Standing his ground would be better to run, he knew, and maybe if he pretended he had no idea what she was talking about, the woman would leave him alone.

"Don't give me that cute little innocent face. I have noticed when Mr Jose, or Miss Berry, or any other of your silly little friends have been around. Didn't you wonder why I had been so careful? Why you had nothing on me?" Laughing again, she flipped her sickle scythe over once more, before stepping forwards, allowing light to fall on her face. A smirk danced on her lips. "I only slipped up today because I hadn't realised that Jose or his little bitch would be at the market when I Reaped that little girl."

Wondering what to do, Alan just stepped forwards. Hands held aloft, hoping to placate her, Alan spoke.

"I just want to get home," He promised, not daring to take his glasses off to rub at his tired eyes, though he desperately wanted to. "I'm tired, I'm sore, and I'm very, very hungry."

"You're not nearly as sore as I am, though, are you?" Lance sneered, stepping forwards for the first time. Alan gaped, eyes widening. He really shouldn't have been out of the hospital. Emaciated and grey, the brunette thought he looked dead. His hair was lank and limp, falling down without even a hint of a shine to perk it up a little. Large bags sat underneath his eyes, and they lacked a gleam, cold and dead. Only when they landed upon Mrs Alford did they hold any sort of life. "Because you're no longer dying."

"Lance, dearie," Mrs Alford trilled, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Do step back and let me deal with this. You really shouldn't be out of bed."

"Deal with this?" Alan asked, wary. Was she really going to fight him? "I won't tell anyone what Maiko or Jose saw. I promise."

"I don't really care what you do or don't do, honey," she stepped forwards again, fingers tightening around the wooden handle of her scythe. Inspecting it as it glinted in both the orange light of the lamp and the silver light of the moon, she drew ever closer. "I believe you when you say that you won't tell anyone. But I don't think that you mentioned any of your friends in this promise. I was thinking that beating you up would be a perfect way to silence them, at least for a little while. What do you think?"

With that, she leaped forwards. Already on his toes, Alan leaped back in time, landing against the wall and feeling it as his shoulder crunched. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off from the wall and edged backwards as the angry woman prepared to lash out at him again, not daring to turn his back to her. She would bury her scythe in his back with little to no qualms.

Pushing his glasses up, Alan tried to edge around her, ready to turn and flee should he get to a position in which she was not between him and his house. Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he took his keys with it, and quickly brought the jagged edge of the key up. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing that he had for self-defence. Worrying a little, he furrowed his brow, and wished that he hadn't left his scythe in the office.

Whilst he was fretting, Mrs Alford had made another move. Before he knew it, she was upon him, him only ducking back in time to avoid having his head cut off. A few brown strands of hair floated to the floor, the two Reapers watching as it happened. Eyes wide, Alan scrambled back. Mrs Alford lifted her face, a manic grin set on her lips.

Dodging back again, wondering if hiding behind Lance would help him in any way, Alan realised that not even Grell's manic grin had been quite this scary. With a jolt, he realised that it was because it had never been directed at him. Gulping, he found a large swipe of the silver sickle to land very close to him. Hands flying to his stomach, he gasped at just how close Mrs Alford had been to burying her weapon into his unborn child. To black buttons clattered to the ground at his feet, and his coat fell open.

Slipping it off his shoulders, making sure that he didn't have anything getting in his way, Alan hurried towards Lance. The man was staring at Alan with wide eyes, clearly in shock, and some sort of pained expression was passed over his face. Quickly, before the blond man even knew what was going on, the brunette had snatched the scythe out of his lose grip and spun around, sparks flying as the scythe in his hand met that of Mrs Alford's with a great deal of force.

She had come flying towards him with that special jump a Reaper had, and he had been pushed back into Lance. Elbow jabbing into the blonde's stomach, he muttered an apology, before pushing forwards. Mrs Alford's expression was one of fury as she yelled at the brunette that he would pay for the pain he had caused the blonde, leaving Alan to ask why she didn't see it as her own fault. Apparently, he learned as she hissed at him, it was because she would never hurt Lance.

"Becca," Lance gasped, winded. Both Reapers turned their heads to look at him, halting their fighting for a minute. "Rebecca."

"What is it, Lance, love?" The black haired Reaper asked, holding out her scythe so it pressed against Alan's throat when he tried edging around her, hoping to get home, where he could lock himself in. "What do you need?"

"He's…. He's…" He gestured towards Alan's stomach, his face turning paler and greener, almost as if he were going to be sick. "He's pregnant."

"How very well done." Patiently, Mrs Alford smiled at Lance, before turning back to glare daggers at the brunette Reaper. "Of course he is. What of it?"

"I didn't want this," Lance whispered, gritting his teeth. "You said that we would make a man live without the one he loved, just like you were going to have to do. You didn't say that we would make a child live without its father."

"It's the same thing, isn't it?"

"No," Lance wheezed, shaking his head desperately. "You can't leave a little girl or boy to be fatherless. It isn't right. It isn't right!"

Mrs Alford blinked, almost as if Lance had got through to her. Alan hoped he had. But then she shook her head, a few strands falling free from her otherwise perfect hair.

"No," Mrs Alford grinned then, a nasty, deadly thing. "No, it isn't right. But it's would make me feel better. So I'm going to do it anyway. I've come this far…"

She shrugged, and with that she used her fingers to make a small cutting motion with her scythe. Pressing back against the wall, Alan managed to flatten himself against it just enough, so that when her scythe sliced, it only caused a shallow cut to open itself. Furious, Mrs Alford growled, but the noise was a distraction to her long enough for Alan to drag himself away over the wall, and throw himself onto open ground again, meaning that when she flew for him, he would be able to freely duck back. Ruby red slid down his throat and blossomed onto his shirt.

Shrieking, Mrs Alford flew forwards, her scythe arcing down to hit Alan on the head. Cowering, wondering how he was going to get out of this one, he sucked in a surprised breath when a shape flew from the side, knocking the raging Reaper away from him. Blinking, he turned his head as fast as he could, only to see Lance lying on top of the black haired Reaper, panting.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. His hands were clenched in Mrs Alford's coat, and he was shaking. "No. We don't make people lose fathers. Never. Never. Never. They won't be like me. Never."

Shock coursed through Alan. Lance had lost his father. That was why he was so against the idea of Eric's death all of a sudden. Understanding ran through him, and he struggled to his feet, ready to run, when he heard the sound of coughing.

Lance was hacking up his lungs over Mrs Alford, groaning in agony. It was the Thorns, and they had set in fast. Eyes wide, he watched as the blonde rolled off of the other Reaper and onto the cobblestones, face screwed up in agony as he writhed. Quickly, he rushed to Lance's side, trying to pick the blonde up, but knowing he would be unable. The other man was still larger than him, and even if he was very strong, he would be very awkward to carry. Turning beseeching eyes upon the woman standing next to him, staring in horror at Lance, he watched as her face screwed up in fury.

Slowly she turned to him, pointing her scythe at him, her eyes glowing with absolute accusation.

"You," she whispered, her eyes narrowing to slits. "This was _you_. All your fault. All your fault!"

She screamed the last phrase at him as she flew at him, riding him to the ground. Struggling beneath her weight, Alan managed to push her away a little, but by this time, she had already used her scythe to pop his top buttons. She was going to kill him. He could see it in her eyes. She was going to kill him, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

His scythe had been knocked out of his hand, and it lay a few feet away. Too far for his arm to easily reach out and grab it. Finger tips brushing it, Alan turned his head desperately, hoping to any higher power out there that he could pick the thing up before she started getting truly brutal. She was pressing the cold metal of the sickle against his throat now, and blood poured from the wound on his neck again. It had begun to clot, but had opened up the second the scythe touched it. Desperately, he reached out as far as he could, eyes holding her crazed ones, and bit the inside of his mouth so hard that he tasted blood when he heard the skittering of wood and metal over cobblestones. He had pushed the only item he could use to help him away. He couldn't shift the woman off of him, either, as she was sitting on one arm, straddling his chest and grinning from ear to ear.

Closing his eyes, waiting for her to start bragging or gloating, Alan bit his lip, wondering how Eric would react to hear that he had been killed during his hunt to save the man. He knew the reaction would be worse than just 'bad'.

Suddenly, a great weight was removed from his chest, and Alan looked up, blinking in astonishment. A slight shadow stood above him, a scythe raised and directed at the wall. With a start, Alan realised it was the scythe that he had caused to slip away, and he wondered who had picked it up.

"Get out of here, lady," a very recognisable voice stated, and Alan blinked. "Or I'll hit you. Normally I don't hit ladies, but I think that I can make an exception for tonight."

"Oh really?" Mrs Alford sneered, still standing back. Alan turned his head to watch her. "I don't think you'd be able to."

"You wanna bet?" Voice threatening, Alan's rescuer nodded as Alan heard staccato steps walking away. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

A hand reached down, extended for Alan to use to help himself up with. Accepting it gladly, he pulled himself up, blinking.

"Ronald?" He asked, shaking his head a little. "What are you doing here?"

"Inspecting my new house," he shrugged, before reaching up and removing his tie. He had been in overtime, it seemed. He handed the tie to Alan. "I was just on my way back from a meeting with Sempai, and then I saw what was going on. I wasn't gonna let that woman kill you, you know."

"I know," Alan nodded, wondering what Ronald could possibly have been meeting William about. "I'm grateful that you came along."

He was about to turn away to fetch his coat, before realising that Lance was still lying in the street. His hand shot out and clenched Ronald's wrist, his eyes widening in realisation and worry.

" _Lance_." Was all he said, before he hurried over to the dying man's side.

"Lance?" Ronald asked, before his eyes landed upon the thin man lying on the cobblestones. Quickly, he hurried over to Alan's coat, before bringing it over to lie on the blonde to keep him warm. "We have to get him to the hospital."

"I know," Alan nodded. "Will you help me?"

Ronald nodded, and before long the two of them were at the hospital, Doctor Montoya making some sort of odd joke about not expecting to see Ronald twice in one night. Alan shook the joke off for a while, worry for Lance clouding other emotions. It was only when he was drawn away by Braylen to have the wound on his throat cleaned that he started to notice things other than the blonde's condition.

….

Coming out of his Lance related trance, Alan blinked and hissed as Braylen dabbed a water soaked cloth against his neck, cleaning the blood away. Biting his lip and holding still, Alan didn't allow any other sounds to be heard. He had dealt with much more pain when he had had the Thorns, and besides, one of his saviours, namely Lance, was practically dying in the other room. It didn't seem right to complain of a slight injury when another was going through a great deal of pain.

"Are you alright, Alan-sempai?" Ronald asked, sitting down next to Alan and kicking his legs, fingers wrapped around the edge of the mattress as he blinked at the smaller man. "Mrs Alford had gone crazy. What was that about?"

"That was due to the fact that she is the one who is Reaping souls for her own use, and not Eric." Alan murmured, thanking Braylen as the dark-haired man tied off the bandage he had wrapped around the brunette's throat. Personally, Alan didn't think it was quite necessary, but Braylen had insisted.

"What? Really?" Ronald's eyes widened, his mouth forming an 'O' shape. "I knew it! Everyone was saying Eric-Sempai did it, but I knew it couldn't be him. Besides, loads of souls had been going missing anyway, even when the police arrested him. It was weird, because the higher-ups just kept saying it was a coincidence. William-sempai and I didn't think so, but we weren't granted the use of the office and staff to prove it. I guess it's because Mrs Alford never actually sent the request to the big bosses, huh?"

"It would seem so," Alan replied, pushing himself off of the bed as Ronald copied his actions. "Do you think Braylen has gone to alert the police?"

"Why? Should he have?" Ronald asked, eyes wide. "I mean, you didn't really tell him how you got that, did you"?

He gestured to Alan's throat, blinking, as the brunette reached a hand up to brush his fingers against it. "I suppose not." He murmured, looking down. "They really should be informed."

"I'll go," Ronald promised, stretching, before following Alan as he stepped into the corridor, ready to return to the room in which Lance was. "I've got a few hours to kill. Seeing as we don't know where Mrs Alford is, I'll stay with you for a while and make sure you're okay. Then I'll go tell the police."

Nodding, though thinking that the police really should have been informed before all else, Alan allowed the younger Reaper to follow him. He was making conversation the whole way, even when all Alan wanted to do was to check up on Lance and then sleep. He kept talking, even when Alan's answers fell to hushed, single word responses.

Finally, the two reached the room, and Alan slipped in. He quickly went over to Lance's bed, checking to see that the man was still breathing. He was, though he was also sweating and looked feverish. Sighing, Alan paced to the bed to the right of the blonde man, sitting down on it as Ronald took the chair by his bed. Keeping an eye on the other man, Alan finally allowed himself to tune back in to what Ronald was saying.

"Hey, Alan-sempai?" His tone was quiet and curious, causing Alan to turn to him in shock. Normally, Ronald was never quiet. This was quite a change. "I know this is personal and all, but how did you tell Eric-sempai that you were pregnant?"

"Um…" A little taken-aback, Alan blinked, before frowning. How had he told Eric he was pregnant? Thinking about it, he held up a hand to signify that he was thinking of an answer, as Ronald started fiddling with the fraying arm of the chair. "Well… I.. I, um… I struggled to tell him for days." His cheeks heated up with colour, and he ducked his head down to hide it. "And then when I did, he thought I was joking."

"Oh," Ronald sounded a little disappointed. "How did you get him to believe you?"

"I was very persistent." Giving Ronald a small smile, Alan stared at him inquisitively. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Oh," Ronald glanced away, a hand rising up to rub at the back of his head. "I've just come back from a meeting with Will-sempai, as I said."

Alan nodded, waiting for Ronald to continue.

"It was a meeting to tell him that I'll be showing in a few months' time. I'm pregnant too."

It was Alan's turn to act all embarrassed, before he finally calmed down and blinked at Ronald once more. It wasn't like it was anything to be embarrassed about. He himself was pregnant after all.

"Who's the father?" He asked, watching as Ronald's cheeks heated up some more. "Don't tell me it's that man that you've had your eye on for so long, Ronald."

"You mean Madden?" At Alan's blank look, Ronald shook his head and asked about the same man, but instead used his surname. "Mr Owen. From the academy?"

Nodding, Alan agreed that that was indeed who he had meant. Ronald just blushed, before nodding. Smiling a little, Alan wished Ronald luck with telling the man just what was going on, before lying back. Checking his watch, Ronald informed Alan that he was going to hurry off to the police station, before meeting up with Madden. Apparently, the man got just as much overtime as William did. He looked pretty similar too, Alan knew, save for the dark skin. They were both handsome, in a very smart and professional way, and Alan was almost certain that the strict man that he knew from the academy would calm down and act caring towards Ronald. He would have to, if the blonde boy was so eager to see him.

Shaking his head, glad to see that someone was happy, even if he wasn't, Alan lay back. Turning his head to the side, he slipped his glasses off, his blurred vision still showing him the motionless form of Lance. The poor man wasn't moving, and though he had been part of the initial attack, he had also saved Alan's life, so the brunette couldn't hate him. Besides, now he had information that he could use to save his love's life.

Smiling a tiny smile, Alan felt himself drifting to sleep. Darkness rolled in, and he fell into a relaxing and deep sleep, knowing that he wasn't going to be disturbed by Mrs Alford that night, even if someone else were to come and wake him up.

 **Author's Note: So… The ending of the chapter sucked, but I hoped you enjoyed the rest of it. Don't worry, the story isn't finished in the next chapter. We do get a few with Alan and Eric's baby, too.** **Hope you enjoyed, and feel free to review.**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Author's Note: I do not own Black Butler, or any of the characters, because if I did, they would be held hostage in my room, and I would probably never leave the house in favour of spending all my time with them… So, no change there then. Enjoy!

One Thousand Souls Chapter Sixteen

Jolted awake, Alan blinked into the darkness. A faint glow was coming from the other side of the bed to which he was facing, and a hand was clasped firmly on his shoulder. Groaning in an annoyed fashion, Alan reached up to rub his eyes, the leather of his gloves sticking to his skin a little. Finally, wondering who was trying to rouse him, he rolled over, only to be met with the blue uniform of the Shinigami police.

Blearily, reaching for his glasses, Alan fumbled upright, before glancing once more at the man beside him. Tanned skin melted into the dark blue sleeves of his uniform, and blue glasses sat in front of his emerald eyes. He appeared to be of average build, certainly nowhere near as slight as Alan, nor as tall and imposing as Eric. However, there was something about the expression on his face that made Alan's heart beat quicker. Cruelty appeared to glow within his eyes, though Alan couldn't be sure. Besides, working with the police for so long, any man was bound to find themselves feeling a little stress and anger. Curly, pale blonde hair was preventing a clear view, anyway. Shaking his head, Alan decided that he only saw cruelty because of his own stress.

Slowly, the brunette slid himself to the edge of the bed and hopped off of it, waiting for the police officer to say something. He didn't, so Alan quickly walked past him, going to check up on Lance. The blonde was still looking ill and sickly, and it was very likely that he would die that night. Alan hoped there was someone with him when that happened. Sighing, he reached down and gave Lance's hand a comforting and supportive squeeze.

"Mr Humphries," the officer's voice was cool and articulate, and it made Alan jump as it rang out in the silence of the room. "My name is Officer Kaur. I have a few questions for you, regarding the claims made by one Mr Ronald Knox from earlier this evening."

"Of course, Officer," Alan nodded, letting Lance's hand drop onto the bed, and coming back towards the other man. "May I suggest we talk outside, so as not to disturb Mr Knight?"

"That would be ideal," the blonde nodded, before turning on his heel and leading the way out of the door, leaving Alan to trot behind him, panting to keep up with the taller man's fast pace. He only had little legs, after all.

Finally, they reached a small, empty room in the hospital. Officer Kaur held the door open and gestured Alan in, before entering himself and closing it behind him, leaving Alan time to find a seat. The brunette realised he was very hungry, his stomach growling to indicate this fact. Vaguely annoyed, he quickly rose, about to ask if he could fetch himself something to eat, when he heard the police officer tell him to sit.

"Actually, I was just going to get something to eat." He argued, knowing that he hadn't eaten since lunchtime, and was practically desperate for food. "I haven't eaten all day, and baby is hungry, too."

"This will only take a few minutes, Mr Humphries," Officer Kaur argued, before sitting down himself. "Now, like I said, sit."

Nodding, Alan sighed and sat down, linking his fingers together in his lap. He wondered what the questions would be, exactly, but he didn't have to wait long before he found out.

"So," The taller man began, leaning forwards in his chair and studying the brunette's face. "Tell me what happened tonight, Mr Humphries."

"Oh," Blinking, Alan thought back, and winced at the memories. "Well, I was walking to my new home and I came across Mr Knight and Mrs Alford in the street. They were both very angry, and they attacked me. Though, I know Mr Knight realised that what he was doing was wrong when he realised it was pregnant. He saved my life, at one point."

"If this is the case, how did he end up in the hospital?"

"Well, he has the Thorns," Alan pointed out seriously, fingers tightening on each other. It was cold in the room, and Officer Kaur wasn't making it any warmer. "So after a while, he ended up having an attack. Mrs Alford blamed me, and ended up holding her scythe to my throat."

"Mrs Alford, head secretary at the Shinigami Dispatch Society?" The blonde asked, his voice clearly showing he was disbelieving of Alan. Gritting his teeth, Alan nodded his head. "Really? I don't know if this has occurred to you or not, Mr Humphries, but secretaries don't have scythes."

"I know that." Alan pointed out, eyes meeting Officer Kaur's. "I can't honestly say where she got it from, but I do know that she had it."

"Alright. So, let's say that Mrs Alford really did have a scythe on her, which is highly unbelievable. How did you manage to stop her from killing you, defenceless as you are?"

"Ronald Knox was walking along on the street to get to his new house, and he happened across us." Alan murmured, wondering how much longer they were going to take. He would have loved something to eat. Edginess was starting to show in his actions, as he was very hungry now. "I'm glad he did, too, otherwise I'm sure I would be dead."

"Mr Knox was looking for his new house?" Officer Kaur's eyebrow rose, and he breathed disbelievingly through his nose. "You are aware, are you not, Mr Humphries, that male pregnancy is a very rare thing?"

"Yes," Nodded Alan, glancing down. The blonde officer's mocking gaze was getting very difficult to meet. "But Doctor Lawrence-Robinson and Nurse Lawrence-Robinson both have an idea that it is due to a curse, and looking through records, it does appear that four males become pregnant around the same time. Ms. Sutcliff is one of them, Mr Knox is one of them, a man in Scotland is one of them, and there should be a new-born Reaper that will become one soon."

"And you don't include yourself within these four because…?"

"I don't include myself because my pregnancy has been brought on by the cure of the Thorns." Murmured Alan, before he drew himself upright. "Besides, Officer, what does this have to do with the attack tonight? Mr Knox came along and saved me. Then we both brought Mr Knight here. That's all there is to it."

Officer Kaur raised his eyebrows again, but didn't say anything. He sat there studying Alan, causing the brunette to feel very awkward and uncomfortable, with irritation rising in his chest, making him jittery. No words were passed between the two, and both sat still, though Alan could feel the annoyance thrumming through his veins. He hoped that the other man said something soon, otherwise he wouldn't know what to do. Most likely, he would just rise from his seat and leave the room in search of sustenance. His lack of food was making him irritable, too.

Finally, Officer Kaur spoke.

"I just can't see it." He said, causing Alan to jump. The brunette hadn't expected the other's voice to break the tense silence, and when it did it was too loud, yet also very quiet and threatening. "I don't know anything about this curse that you're talking about, I'm not so sure about this cure theory, and I _really_ can't see Mrs Alford getting a scythe from anywhere. Can you?"

When the man put it like that, Alan had to admit that it did sound rather odd. Then again, he had also told nothing but the truth, and it annoyed him to know that the other man thought he was lying.

"Furthermore, you can't produce witnesses. One is passed out, the other off to 'speak to his lover', apparently." Officer Kaur must have been quoting Ronald, Alan knew, as the brunette had never said that himself. "Mrs Alford is most likely at home, and I doubt that she will be particularly pleased if we go and knock on her door at this time of night, just for an accusation as silly as this."

"But that's your job," Alan protested, brows furrowing and eyes widening. Was the police officer really going to pull the 'it's late' card on him? "And if it didn't happen, then how do you explain this?"

He gestured to his neck, and Officer Kaur's lip curled scathingly.

"Honestly, Mr Humphries," he shook his head, sighing. "I have my own theory, you know."

Alan raised an eyebrow.

"I think you're desperate."

"Desperate?" Confused, Alan blinked up at the blonde, before standing himself, finding that the other man was still a great deal taller than him. Not as much as his love, but still a great deal taller. "What do you mean, desperate?"

"Your lover is going to die," the other man said, causing fury to streak through Alan. He sucked his breath in, biting his lip to help clear his head. The pain cut through the anger, and he managed to stop himself from doing anything he would regret. "And you don't want that. Not with a baby on the way. Who's going to help you look after it? Especially as Mr Knox has a baby of his own. It's not like he can help you anymore, is it?"

"Where are you going with this, exactly?" Alan asked, very confused at what the other man was trying to get at. He could see this was going somewhere, but just exactly where that was, was another matter.

"I'm saying, Mr Humphries, that I think Mr Knight did have an attack, yes, but it was not sparked by some battle in the middle of a street in the middle of the night. You can provide no witnesses, and to be honest, I think that you're very desperate to save your love. Shinigami have all gone to the greatest extreme – they have killed themselves to end up this way. So it isn't the farthest stretch of the imagination to think that you could cut a light wound into your throat to benefit your own agenda now, is it?"

"You think…" Alan began, before shaking his head. Anger was coursing within. "You think I faked this to save Eric? You think I would cut my own throat when that could go wrong and I could endanger my own child? You truly believe this?"

"People have done stranger things in the past, Mr Humphries." Officer Kaur spread his hands in a placating gesture, but Alan was having none of it.

"I didn't fake this." He growled, holding himself very tense, fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to punch the man across from him, but it would be so very impolite. People couldn't just go around hitting others, after all. "I wouldn't fake this. Not when it could only condemn Eric further."

"Mr Humphries," the officer began, eyes narrowing and zeroing on to Alan's hands, clenched at his sides. "Other officers will be able to check your story, just not tonight. I'm just saying that I myself don't believe you, especially as it is so clear that Mr Slingby deserves to die."

That did it for Alan. The rage at being accused of lying, the denial of food, his exhaustion and the threat against his love built up within him, and he flung himself forwards, first rising up and slamming straight into Officer Kaur's nose. A crunching could be heard, and Alan knew that he had broken it, but he didn't care. Stepping back, he knew he wasn't going to hit the other man any more, but it was too late. Looking at the other man and his bleeding nose, Alan knew that he had made a very out of character mistake, and it was going to cost him.

Angrily, Officer Kaur reached a hand up to his nose. Pulling it away, both of them saw the blood spread over his fingers. Gulping, Alan looked down sheepishly, before stuttering a nervous apology. Both knew that it wasn't going to get him out of what he had done.

"Mr Humphries," Officer Kaur tutted, shaking his head. "That was a very, very grave mistake you just made."

"I know."

"I'm going to arrest you now."

"I know."

"Mr Slingby is probably going to die now."

"I know."

"Good. Just so we're clear then."

Officer Kaur reached to his belt and pulled off the shackles that were strapped there, before grabbing Alan's wrists and locking them in them. Apparently, the brunette wasn't even allowed to fetch his coat, even though it was probably snowing outside. It was terribly cold, after all. Besides, the manacles were a little bit of overkill, in Alan's opinion. It wasn't like he was going to run. He had made a mistake, and he would accept the consequences, along with making sure that this didn't affect Eric in any way. Sighing and gritting his teeth, Alan allowed himself to be led out of the side room.

People in the hospital stared, sucking their breaths in. Many knew Alan, and all were surprised to see the gentle, yet feisty soul to be led out in chains. Cheeks heating, the brunette did his best to ignore them, but he could still feel their eyes on him, crawling over him like ants. It was uncomfortable to say the least, especially when the evidence of what he had done was written in blood on the officer's face. Biting his lip, he kept his head down and his shoulders raised, breathing a small sigh of relief when he made it outside, and found himself shoved into the same carriage that Officer Kaur must have come in. The driver was sitting at the front, ignoring the fact that the number of occupants within had doubled. Alan was merely glad that no one could see him within the black walled carriage.

…..

Hours later, Alan found himself being led to a cell by a completely different officer. The man had smiled a small smile at Alan, and had introduced himself as Officer Moss. The man had dark skin and black hair, and Alan recognised him as the man that had brought Eric to the visitor room. He seemed nice, nicer than Officer Kaur at least. Alan supposed that it made sense to give him the nice officer. It wasn't like anyone expected him to fight back.

Finally, they reached Alan's cell, and Officer Moss opened the door, before standing back and allowing Alan into the room. It was grey, the walls looking cold. There were damp marks on the walls, though they were dry now, and Alan wondered how long it had been since someone had bothered to update the maintenance of the cells. It was very medieval prison style, with bars against one wall, the door made of metal, with a small hole in it, that could be covered with a hatch. A small, barred window was set into the other room, and the light that entered the cell from the hallway was dingy and dreary, making Alan feel trapped and depressed.

Officer Moss swung the door shut, before he appeared to realise something. Shaking his head, he stepped inside and held out his hands. Confused, Alan reached his arms forwards, too, the chains clanking around his wrists. Deftly, Officer Moss slid a key from his belt and unlocked them, before hanging them over his belt and slipping the key away.

"Best not tell anyone I did that," he murmured, smiling a little at Alan. "If anyone asks, permission was given from the chief's desk. I'm just going to ask him now. This just saves me coming back. He loves me." He winked.

Unable to help but smile a little, Alan thanked him and rubbed his wrists, before going over to the small mattress that was pushed against a corner of the room. It looked lonely and cold, and Alan sighed as he stared at it. It wasn't going to be doing him any wonders, that was for certain.

"Tell you what," Officer Moss began, causing the brunette to turn to him with inquisitive eyes. "I'll go and get you a blanket. We don't want you catching anything, not with a baby to be looking after."

"Thank you." Alan murmured, before padding over and sitting on the mattress. It was lumpy. He sighed again.

"Though, I am going to have to ask you to remove all unnecessary items of clothing." The other man mentioned, coming further into the room. "So, would you please remove your tie, gloves, jacket, waistcoat and shoes?"

"Of course," Alan murmured, before doing so. Without his jacket, it was cold in the cell, the same kind of cold that rose from stone slabs that had been sitting in the shadows on a sunny day. Unnatural, but yet natural all the same. It was strange, and Alan felt goose-bumps rise on his arms. "I apologise for the trouble I have cause, by the way. I know it won't get me out of here, but I do feel bad about punching Officer Kaur."

"I wouldn't," Officer Moss's voice was warm, and Alan's eyes widened as he looked at the other man in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Sean is a bit of a dick. No one really likes him." A smile quirked at the dark haired man's lips. "Actually, I think many of our inmates are actually liked more than him. Like Finn Harrison, Kinsley Foley and, of course, Eric Slingby."

At the mention of Eric's name, Alan perked up. How was Eric? He had seen him only that night, yes, but he still wanted to know quite how his man was feeling.

"How is Eric?" He asked, wondering if Officer Moss would actually tell him. Out of any of the officers in the building, it was most likely that Moss would be the one to give out any information of this sort.

"He's doing fine." The taller man smiled, bending down to pick up Alan's discarded clothes. "You're carrying his baby, aren't you? You must both be very excited. If my wife could have children, I know I would be."

Nodding, Alan smiled down at his stomach, starting when the dark haired man asked if he wondered whether he was carrying a boy or a girl.

"I think it's a girl, to be honest," Alan murmured. He looked up. "I don't suppose there's any way I could get something to eat. I haven't eaten since lunch time."

"You've missed the evening meal I'm afraid," Officer Moss replied, looking a little upset himself. Then he perked up, clearly remembering something. "But you can have my meal if you like. You need it more than I do. Besides, my shift's nearly over, and I can get food back at my house. Now, I'll go get you that blanket."

And with that, he left, leaving Alan alone in his cell. The silence pressed in on him, and he groaned, pressing his hands to his eyes as he lay back. This was why he had always been the careful, controlled one. Because he was supposed to be the one who kept people out of this situation. Now he found himself in it, and he wondered who was going to protect him. Most likely, no-one, unless Braylen and Roger came to his rescue, as they were the two most likely to know about his arrest. He had a week to spend here, after all, seeing as that was the time given to those who punched a police officer. They didn't even need a trial to lock him up. Physical evidence was proof enough, after all.

Fifteen minutes later, Officer Moss returned, draping a heavy blanked over the shivering Alan and leaving an apple, some cheese sandwiches and some water. Alan scarfed them down, leaving Officer Moss shaking his head. Finally, when he was finished, the police officer left the cell, and Alan huddled up under the blanket, finally falling asleep late into the night.

…..

The next morning, and Alan had been let outside earlier than the others, mostly because his cell was the closest to the courtyard. He sat at one of the tables and lay his head in his hands. Apparently, he was to be left out in the courtyard while everyone else was exercising. The prison officers had decided that Alan needed rest more than anything, because the general consensus was that Alan had only lashed out because he was feeling so stressed. Furthermore, they didn't want Eric causing a fuss first thing in the morning. Because of this, Alan had been given food in his cell.

It wasn't long before Alan felt some people surrounding him, and he lifted his head to inspect them. To his shock, they were sitting at his bench, neither of them looking particularly happy. One was very tall, with caramel coloured skin. The other was tall, with messy black hair and tattoos like Morgan and Dangelo's.

When Alan's eyes met the caramel boy's eyes, though, the boy widened his eyes, an expression of awe coming onto his face, replacing the one of anger that had been there before.

"Woah," he whispered, resting his head in his hands as his elbows jabbed themselves into the table. "You're adorable. Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Alan asked, seriously confused as to where these two had come from. Weren't they supposed to be exercising? And why could he smell demon?

"Oh, honey," the previous speaker gushed, practically drawling over the brunette. "Even your voice is adorable. My name is Charles Watson, and this here is Willie Lawrence. We're not your average inmates, which is why we're out here with you."

"Oh," Alan murmured, glancing between the two. They both looked calm and composed, whereas he looked like a shivering mess. He had dragged his blanket with him into the courtyard, and he sat with it drawn around his shoulders, trying desperately to keep warm. "I'm a friend of Dangelo and Morgan's."

" _Really_?" Willie sneered, giving the brunette a judging look. "And how would you know them?"

"They came out of here to help, right?" Looking between the two, Alan wondered if either of them would throw him a line. "Dan and Morgan. They're both fine, by the way. They said that they know you."

"They do." Willie stated bluntly, finally coming to sit down heavily on the bench the other side of the table, next to Charles. "Dan hasn't had an attack, has he?"

"Small ones," Alan kept still, wondering how Willie would react. "But he's back up on his feet. And Jenny looks after him, too."

"I'm surprised you know what I meant by attacks," Willie sneered, looking Alan up and down, his eyes judging him once more. "The Thorns of Death are a rare disease. In fact, this last century we've had a record number of cases – four, to be exact."

"I know," Murmured the brunette, pulling the blanket closer around himself. "Because I had the Thorns myself."

"And you no longer have the Thorns?" Charles asked, interest piqued. "Then that must make you that lover of Eric Slingby's, right?"

Alan was just about to nod and agree, when a loud voice sounded from behind them, calling his name. Glancing around, Alan realised that the courtyard had filled up, and that now there were a lot of criminals standing around, staring at the newcomer. Slowly, Alan turned, eyes trained on the floor. Hitting the shoes of the tall man standing beside him, Alan slowly looked up, before finally meeting the angry and worried eyes of the man he knew so well.

Eric was behind him, and he was both worried and furious. How exactly Alan was going to explain the situation to him, he had no idea.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_**Author's Note**_ **: Okay… I'm really sorry I haven't updated in such a long time… I didn't feel like writing during the half-term break, and I've also had a German speaking exam to revise for, and in the next couple of weeks I have my Mocks to revise for, so I may not have much time to write again. I shall when I can, though. Hope you enjoy! And I promise I haven't given up on the story. It will be finished… eventually…** **Maybe over Easter, or maybe even beforehand.**

 _ **Disclaimer**_ **: So, I don't own Black Butler, or any of the recognisable characters. If you don't recognise a character from Black Butler (not from earlier in the story** **) then they are mine. Enjoy!**

One Thousand Souls Chapter Seventeen

"Alan?" Eric asked again, eyes wide. What was his little brunette doing there? The smaller man should only be in the prison to make visits to him, and certainly not standing in the courtyard. Certainly not in the cold. And certainly not with so little on. Honestly. He was pregnant. Didn't the prison officers know that that was in no way healthy for the baby? Even from his distance of a few feet away, Eric could see Alan's minute shivering. "Wha' are yer doin' here?"

"Eric," Alan acknowledged, climbing off of his seat on the bench and stepping towards Eric. "Aren't you pleased to see me?"

"I saw yer yesterday," Eric eyed Alan suspiciously, wondering why he was in the prison courtyard. What had he done to get himself there? "And I can' say I'm bes' pleased ter see yer in prison."

"Well, no," Looking down, the little brunette pulled his arms tighter around himself, clearly trying to stop himself from shivering. Eric was almost certain that should he roll up his sleeves, goosebumps would be covering his flesh. "I suppose you wouldn't be. But I'm staying here for the week, so you're going to have to get used to it."

"Wha' did yer do?" Sighing, Eric stepped forwards, folding Alan in his arms and attempting to warm the little man as best as he could. Alan really was quite chilly, so the larger man quickly started rubbing his hands up and down the smaller man's back in the hopes of creating warmth from the friction.

"I may have… punched a police officer." Alan blushed burying his face in Eric's chest. Eric felt the other man breath out against his chest and sighed, shaking his head. "Maybe."

"Maybe, huh?" Shaking his head again, Eric chuckled a little and placed a kiss to the brown locks of Alan's hair. "Wha' am I gonnae do with yer?"

"Forgive me?" Alan asked, causing Eric to blank. Why did his little brunette think that he was angry at him at all? In Eric's honest opinion, most of the officers in the building deserved to be punched, save for maybe the one who brought the food, Eric grudgingly admitted, and definitely Officer Moss.

"Wha' fer?" He asked, nuzzling Alan's head with his nose and breathing him in. He smelled just like always, and Eric was glad for the comforting scent. Truthfully, he had been missing it, and now that he could hold Alan in his hands again comfortably, he didn't think he would ever be able to let the younger man go. "I love yer, and I don' blame yer fer punchin' any o' this lo'."

"But Eric-" Alan almost choked on his own words, fingers clenching on the back of Eric's shirt, making it particularly tight on the shoulders. Eric had wide shoulders, after all, and the shirts he found were not particularly baggy on him. He was just glad he never did them up all the way, though he was regretting it with the cold weather. It was _very_ cold, after all. "Now that I've punched a police officer, they think I'm an accomplice or something. They're never going to let you go."

"Relax, Alan," Eric murmured, tightening his hold on the other man as he nudged him forwards, sitting down on the bench and pulling the younger man down onto his lap. Vaguely, he noticed Willie and Charles get up and walk away, but he didn't pay too much notice to it, too caught up in his little lover. "I still love yer. Nothin's gonnae change tha', alrigh'?"

Alan looked up at him with wide eyes, but nodded. Then, seeming to pull himself together, he straightened up, Eric watching with proud amusement as he shook the blonde off and sat on the bench on his own, but still leaned into the older male. Eric had to repress a sigh that the smaller man wasn't into public displays of affection as much as he was, but he was glad that their shoulders were still brushing, so he didn't complain.

Waiting in silence, Eric could tell that Alan had something that he wanted to say. Deciding not to push him, Eric simply studied him. Five months pregnant, Alan was definitely showing it. Apparently, he still had yet to feel a kick from the baby. He wasn't worried, though. The doctors had told him that it generally happened from between sixteen to twenty-five weeks. That meant that it could have started a month ago, but could also start next month, and the heartbeat was healthy, so there was nothing to worry about.

Alan, on the other hand, looked less than healthy. Black circles surrounded his eyes, and his hair was dishevelled and unkempt, though that was likely due to the lack of combs that they kept in the prison cells for 'prisoner safety'. What a person was going to do with a hair comb was beyond Eric, though. It wasn't like they could stab someone to death with the tiny, brittle tongs on one, could they? No, no matter how much he wanted to.

The brunette's skin was pale, and he looked tense, like he could do with a good massage, at the very least. Along with a good meal, a long, hot, relaxing bath and a good long hug with someone that he loved. Sighing, Eric shook his head, worrying about his lover. A growl brought Eric out of his musings, causing him to blink and look around, before noticing the way that Alan was clutching at his stomach and going red. Evidentially, the smaller man was hungry. Restraining a chuckle, though also worrying about Alan's need to eat, Eric focused on him once again.

"Sorry," Alan murmured, looking down. "I haven't eaten in a while. Officer Kaur wouldn't allow me to eat last night, which is part of the reason why I punched him."

"Only par'?" Eric asked, ruffling Alan's hair a little and assuring him that breakfast would be soon. "Other than the fact tha' tha' man is a righ' numpty, no' givin' yer food seems like a good enough reason as any ter punch him."

"He was rather nasty, wasn't he?" Alan asked, frowning as he met Eric's gaze. Eric remembered Officer Kaur. He was the mean one, with the narrow nose and the square jawline. Coupled with the tan and the curly blonde hair, and Officer Kaur looked like a first class idiot. "But no. I didn't punch him just because he was nasty. Though that was a deciding factor."

"I be' it was," Eric chuckled, watching as a small smile curled up the corners of Alan's lips. "I'd give him a good smack if I wouldn' affect how I'm seen here."

"Yes," Alan nodded, turning his gaze away from Eric and studying the courtyard, before hugging himself closer to Eric's side as he began to get cold again. Chuckling again, Eric drew the smaller man into his arms, transferring body heat across to him. "But you mustn't, Eric. Because I have already ruined your chances of getting out of here. We don't need them getting worse than they already are."

"Wha' do yer mean, yer ruined them?" Confused, Eric questioned Alan, uncertain as to what the brunette meant by him having ruined the blonde's chances. "This ain't yer faul', Alan."

"It is, though," Alan murmured, eyes avoiding Eric's, even whilst the taller man tried to catch his gaze. "Because Officer Kaur thought that the attack today was my fault and that I was doing it to try to prove that you were innocent."

"The attack?" Eric asked, horror spreading throughout his limbs. The attack? As in the Thorns? Terrified, Eric waited for Alan's response, hoping against all hope that the little brunette didn't mean that his previous disease had come back. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear it if the attacks started up once more. Yes, they would have another two years before Alan would be expected to die, but Eric wasn't ready to give Alan up. Not yet. If the Thorns came back, he would escape the jail and kill thousands again, just to save Alan, no matter how much trouble he got himself into.

Alan's eyes widened as Eric watched, and the smaller appear to realise what he said, because he flushed and shook his head. "Not that sort of attack, Eric," he murmured, spreading relief like fire through Eric's veins, soothing the ice that had shot through them beforehand. "I mean, the person that the others and I suspected attacked me, with Lance."

"Tha' bastard," Rumbled the larger man, not caring that Alan didn't care for that sort of language. "How dare he attack yer? Wha' have yer ever done ter him?"

"He saved my life, Eric," Alan murmured, stopping the elder up short. Blinking, he waited until Alan finished speaking. "So did Ronald. It was really only Mrs Alford who attacked. And Lance almost died trying to save me. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already dead…"

Trailing off, Alan blinked, and Eric knew he was trying to withhold tears. Sighing softly, Eric pulled Alan into a hug, letting the brunette rest his face on his shoulder, whilst he gathered himself, ready to face the rest of the week in the hellhole of a prison. Shaking his head, Eric murmured comforting things about how he didn't blame Alan, and how the younger man didn't deserve to be in the jail. Making Eric smile, Alan pointed out that he didn't either, and it wasn't long before the two were relaxed once more, Charles and Willie joining them once again.

…

Soon they were moved to the breakfast room, where under toasted slices of bread and burnt slices of toast were placed on the table, along with some hunks of solid butter and some of the bluntest knives Alan had ever seen. Picking one up, he examined it slowly, wondering how he was supposed to cut through the near-frozen butter with the thing and then use it to spread the butter across the toast. Only when he noticed one of the guards walking towards him, clearly preparing to remove the knife from his hand, did he stop inspecting it, instead using it to slice through the butter.

It took a while, but eventually the knife went through the butter, and then the butter was spread across the cold slices of toast, ripping the bread into pieces more than actually achieving the job that it was supposed to do. Warily, Alan prodded at it, before taking a bite and acknowledging that it would actually be better to eat it than complain about it. Hungrily, he gobbled his two slices down, and was both pleasantly surprised and reluctant when Eric offered him a slice and a half of his own toast. At first, he refused, but when Eric pointed out that it was for baby, Alan couldn't help but accept, smiling sweetly at his lover.

Finally finished, Alan frowned at how cold the air still was. It wasn't so cold that he could see his breath in the morning air inside, but it was close. Ice was frozen to the outside of the windows, and a few bits were scattered on the inside, slowly warming as the body-heat of all the inmates heated it up. The stone walls had been painted an odd shade of green, and slightly darker green lines showed where the water was leaking off of the windowsills and trailing down the walls.

Quickly, Alan sipped at his water, wincing at how cold it was. Was everything in the prison cold? It seemed so. Toes curling against the stone floor, Alan bit his lip and wondered whether it would still be considered acceptable to curl up into his enormous lover, who appeared to be warm all the time. It wasn't fair, Alan decided, but he couldn't do anything about it, so he didn't complain.

"You know-" Willie started, surprising Alan and causing him to hit his knee on the table rather hard. Tears sprang to his eyes, and his glass was knocked over, rolling from the wooden bench to shatter on the stones beneath his feet. Shocked, Alan stared at it for a minute, but was soon distracted when Willie continued to talk. "I didn't realise I would shock you that much, Titch." He mused, looking thoughtful. "If I do that while you're leaning against a door, do you think it would break? Maybe we should try it Charles. I mean, another jailbreak may be fun. Remember the last time?"

And with that, Willie was off, chatting to Charles about a time when the two of them had sprung from the jail, only to end up back inside with two more convicts, who had _caused_ a new Shinigami to be born from a human. Normally, humans did it themselves, but the two of them had fallen in love with the human, and the both of them had persuaded her to kill herself, becoming a Shinigami afterwards. They were locked up for that, but when they were allowed out – their release date was set for two months' time – then she would certainly be waiting for them.

Alan couldn't be bothered to listen to the story, though. Besides, he wasn't given much time before an Officer was standing over him, glowering harshly and telling him not to break any more dishes and plates. Just because he was pregnant, apparently, did not entitle him to any special treatment. Nodding, Alan allowed himself to be shooed away from the table, his larger lover glowering at the police officer. He was just about to stop him from commenting or doing something silly, when he felt something.

A movement had occurred in his stomach, making his eyes widen, and he reached his hands down to press them to his abdomen, looking down. A gasp escaped his lips, and he stopped dead, causing Eric to just barely miss walking into him. Unconcerned with the blonde almost crushing him, Alan waited, wondering if he would feel it again… Yes! There it was! A sort of fluttering inside that ended with a solid feeling of something pressing against his skin on the inside. Turning, his eyes met Eric's.

"A kick," he whispered, causing Eric to freeze, just as he had started to lift his hand to brush it against Alan's face. "Here."

Alan then grabbed Eric's wrist and pulled the larger man's hand to his belly, placing it to his skin and then waiting a while. Eric looked honestly bewildered, and Alan could tell he was about to ask what was happening, when Alan felt the same fluttery kick again. Watching Eric's face whilst he felt it, Alan watched as Eric's eyes widened like his did, and a smile began to break out over the blonde's face.

"Tha' was a kick, wasnae it?" Eric asked, excitement entering his voice. Nodding, Alan felt his own face breaking out into a grin. "Ah. My little girl want's ter say hello."

"She does," Alan agreed, sure that it was a girl he was carrying. Finding himself unable to help it, he linked his hand with Eric's. "I suppose she just got bored of waiting to surprise you."

"Or maybe it's in protest o' the food." Eric murmured, causing Alan to smile. He then drew Alan into a hug, surprising the smaller man. "Oh, Alan. Tha's our little girl."

Alan nodded, breathing Eric's scent in. He smelt of Eric alright, but there was something missing. It was his aftershave that he got from Glasgow. Obviously he couldn't wear it in the prison, as they wouldn't allow him to have personal items from home, so the smell wouldn't be there. Alan found it strange to be unable to smell it, and knew that should they ever get out of there, the first thing he wanted to do was make Eric put some on, just to get things to seem right once more.

Just as Alan was relaxing, however, a voice came to disturb them.

"Humphries, Slingby," the voice was drawling and pompous, arrogant and nasty all at once, and the two of them turned to face Officer Kaur, a frown on their faces to match the frown on his. "Please refrain from embracing in such a way. This is a prison, and you are not supposed to be enjoying yourself. You, Alan Humphries, are supposed to be thinking about what you did wrong," Kaur had two black eyes, and Alan was fairly certain that he had broken the man's nose when he had punched it last night. "And you, Eric Slingby, are supposed to be awaiting your execution."

"Execution?" Alan exclaimed, shocked. What did Kaur mean by execution? Wasn't there supposed to be a trial, first? Wasn't Alan supposed to have at least a little more time to find evidence to save Eric? Confused, he waited for the officer's explanation.

"That's right," Kaur nodded, smirking slightly and hooking his fingers in his belt. "I talked to the Chief today. You're going down, Slingby. Especially after I brought my theory about you and your faking to light, Humphries."

"I'm not faking!" Annoyed and alarmed, Alan felt rage building once again. There was just something so provocative about Officer Kaur. The other man was, once more, cruising for a bruising, and who was Alan to deny the man something he so obviously wanted. Another hit to the nose should do the trick to cause a lot of pain, Alan hoped. Besides, he could hardly give a kick to the body, or a groin kick whilst pregnant. He'd likely lose his balance, and he didn't want to do that. Yes, a jab to the face was probably best.

"He's no'!" Behind him, just as tense as he was, Eric backed him up, leaving the brunette thankful to have the support of his lover. "Why would he do somethin' so risky in the firs' place?"

" _Because,_ " Officer Kaur drawled, as if talking to someone exceptionally slow, "He loves you, and cannot _bare_ to see himself parted from you."

"Of course I don't want to be parted from Eric," Hissed Alan, his voice quiet and controlled. He was clenching his fists, trying very hard not to lash out at the man again. "Would you want to be parted from the one you love? Especially if they were the father of your child?"

"I'd never be the mother to a child, so they'd never be the father to my child," Kaur smirked, before turning to saunter away. Just before he did so, however, he turned back, smirking once more. "And to be honest, you were so angry at Slingby when he left here for the first time that I can hardly believe that he's really the father now."

"How _dare_ you?" Hearing his own voice shake, Alan tried very hard to control his emotions, but he knew that it wasn't going to work. "I love Eric very much, and the thing that you're implying is very likely to leave you with a split lip to match those black eyes."

Raising an eyebrow, Kaur paused and turned to them, disbelief glinting in his bright green eyes.

"I'm surprised that you would say such a thing, considering where your last slip of temper control got you, Humphries," Kaur simpered, before smirking devilishly. "But, if you want to find yourself detained for longer, I'd carry on the way you're going, if I were you."

Just as Alan was about to snap back, anger glinting in his eyes, a new voice interrupted them.

"Alan, I'd suggest calming down a little," it said, causing the brunette to blink over at the new arrival to the little group. "Kaur, the Chief would like to see you. Something about wondering whether you're really cut out to be an officer in this building… I don't know what it was exactly, but it sounded important. I'd get going if I were you."

Kaur looked as if he was going to argue back, but the level stare that the dark haired officer gave him was enough to send him on his way. Once he had finally left, teeth grinding together and unintelligible mumbles escaping his mouth, Moss turned back to face Alan and Eric, offering a small smile. Alan wasn't entirely sure what to think, but he relaxed enough to loosen his hands from their locked-fist position. A frown still graced his elegant features, though.

"Hey, relax," Moss raised his hands, a jolly smile on his lips. Alan raised a brow, wondering how, exactly, he was supposed to relax when he knew that Eric was soon to be executed. "I come baring good news."

Alan raised his eyebrow.

"No, seriously," Moss' smile was starting to fall, and he was starting to sound a little bewildered. "The news is good."

Alan felt his other eyebrow join the raised one.

"Trust me on this?" Moss asked, looking from Eric's grave face to Alan's even graver one. He sighed. "Please?"

"Fine," Alan nodded, before gesturing for Moss to lead then out. He did, taking them to an empty room with some rather uncomfortable chairs in the middle. Both Alan and Eric sat, Moss choosing to stand above them and look down at them instead. Finally, Alan asked what it was that Moss wished to tell them.

"Lance was found awake this morning, and healthier too." Moss began, causing Alan and Eric to share a look. Both of them had a suspicion as to why, and they were not surprised at all when Moss confirmed it. "Mrs Alford had visited in the night and deposited some souls with him. It wasn't enough to cure him, but it's given him an expected extra three months of life."

"Because of this, we have been able to get a statement from the man that confirms your story, Alan. You're free to go – I brought Kaur's competence as a police officer into question, and now they think his judgement is impaired. They agreed when I pointed out that a pregnant Shinigami should not be in jail, seeing as pregnancies are so rare anyway. We need as many as we can get, do we not? Everything should be comfortable to ensure the most chance of success for a mother-to-be."

"Anyway," he continued, waving the last few statements away before Alan could comment, his diamond ring glittering against his dark skin. "Because of that, Eric's execution has been cancelled, and we're looking to release him."

Excitement and hope bubbled up within Alan, and his eyes widened. He was ready to ask many questions as to the how and when, but was stopped by Moss' raised hand.

"We don't know when Eric will be released, we just know that were working to make it before you give birth, Alan. We're not sure how long it will take, but we do know it will happen. Now, Alan is supposed to be leaving here," he checked his watch and nodded, holding out a hand to help Alan stand up, which Alan gladly accepted. "Eric, you're to go and stay with Willie and Charles from now on. We won't keep you in a cell, but we can't let you go until all the official release warrants and such have come through and been signed."

"And as for you, Alan, Jose and his lovely lady Miss Maiko are waiting for you in reception. They're going to take you home, and I'm going to go out and see if I can capture Mrs Alford. I'll need to talk to Doctor Lawrence-Robinson, as he was the one who saw Mrs Alford giving the souls to Lance, and after that I'll see what I can do. I'll leave you two to say your temporary goodbyes."

With that, he turned his back and walked a little way away. Watching for a moment, Alan made sure he was a far enough distance away before he broke out into a wide grin, turning to Eric and winding his arms around the blonde's neck in a great deal of excitement, only barely restraining himself from jumping up and down in joy. Eric, arms around Alan's waist, was smiling and humming in agreement to Alan's excited squeeze, the both of them too happy to say anything straight away.

Finally, Alan formulated a phrase. Well, maybe phrase is the wrong word. Maybe 'name' is more appropriate.

"Eric," he whispered, squeezing tighter still, before letting go and pulling back.

"Alan," Eric mirrored, smiling down at the small brunette. "I knew yer and the others would do it."

"Me too," Alan nodded, smiling. "We had to. We just did. This little one isn't going to be without a father, and I'm not going to be without you, so that's two reasons."

"Tha's true," Eric nodded, before sweeping Alan up into another embrace. It seemed that the both of them were bursting with energy, neither of them able to contain it. They both giggled a little, before Eric swept down and placed a kiss upon Alan's lips.

Not expecting it, Alan blinked, before closing his eyes and melting into the kiss, his hands moving from around Eric's neck to rest within the blonde locks of the other man. Stretching to the very tips of his toes, he felt himself smiling at the way that Eric still had to bend down to reach him properly, and debated climbing upon one of the chairs. But no – that would make him too tall. Furthermore, Moss was still waiting.

One minute. _Moss was still waiting_. Pulling away quickly, Alan smiled up at Eric once more, placed a kiss on his cheek, and then pulled back.

"Goodbye Eric," he murmured, squeezing the other's hand, feeling the rough skin of Eric's palm against the softer skin of his own. "I'll see you soon. And I'll come and visit, too… Visits are allowed more often now, right?"

Moss turned around and nodded, smiling. "I believe, now that Eric is in the wing that Charles and Willie stay in, that visits are allowed every day if you so wish to visit that often."

"Good," Nodded Alan, before leaning up and kissing Eric's cheek one more time. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"An' don' yer forge' it." Eric responded, chuckling.

And with that, Alan turned around and followed Moss towards the entrance, ready to go to his new home and celebrate with the others, happiness and energy running through his veins for the first time in a long time. Listening closely, he heard the footsteps of Eric going in the opposite direction and smiled, knowing that they would be following him very soon.

Taking a deep breath, Alan stepped into the lobby of the police station and smiled, knowing that he could finally accept that everything was only going to get better from then on.

 **Author's Note: Was that chapter good? I'm not sure. Anyway, the next chapter won't be the last. We'll get some time to spend with little baby, too. Hope you enjoyed! Review?**


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